


Soft Hearts Keep Secrets

by IShouldUpdateMore



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Dead MC, Drug Use, M/M, Mafia AU, Mafia Asra, Mafia Boss Lucio, Murder, Nightmares, Police Officer Nadia, Touch-Starved Muriel, Violence, no MC
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2020-05-20 11:44:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 180,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19376050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IShouldUpdateMore/pseuds/IShouldUpdateMore
Summary: A secret is a heavy burden to carry. Muriel and Asra of Vesuvia have too many, weighed down by their own sealed lips. How long before the weight of their pasts crushes their futures?In a universe where magic is normal and valued, a lonesome car mechanic of South End crosses paths with a wealthy stranger from Vesuvia City. As their relationship progresses and heartstrings wind tighter , Asra finds it harder and harder to keep his involvement with Vesuvia’s largest mafia hidden from Muriel. What he doesn’t know is that his quiet car mechanic has his own ties to Lucio and his empire of crime.Cars, storms, secrets, blood, and passion -- what could possibly go wrong?





	1. A Different Kind Of Stranger

“No.” 

It was the third time he had to say it that day. Every time the word would leave his lips, it was firmer, more drawn out. Never did it have any impact, of course. Inanna was a stubborn girl -- she knew how much begging and whining she had to draw out to get her way. Muriel knew that. Muriel knew she knew that, too. But there was nothing he could do about it. 

And it got him every time. 

“No, Inanna, I’m busy,” he grumbled for the fourth time from beneath the car he’d been tucked under. 

It was a beat up 2001 Honda Civic that had most certainly seen better days. The AC unit was blown and the speakers were busted and the dents around its tarnished silver frame were nearly painful to look at -- but he wasn’t being paid to fix any of that. The man simply called for a tow, told him the car wouldn't run, and left with a friend after ordering for Muriel to have it fixed by four that afternoon. 

Muriel still hadn’t found the problem with it and it was nearing three-fifteen, the hot, midday sun already starting to bake his shop. Sweat was starting to gather up on his brow, prickling in whatever sublime gust of air he’d get from his wobbly, wire fenced fan that barely did anything to air out the room. It was the time of the season where everything seemed hot and breathless -- where the air was like a solid fug of humidity that you could drown in if you weren’t careful. It was both the worst and best season for a car mechanic such as Muriel. The heat was tough on cars which meant good business, but Muriel still didn't have the money to fix his shop’s air conditioning unit -- which meant cheap wire fans and lots of water bottles. 

Just as he thought he might have been on to something with the car, he felt a nose prod against his boot, and heard another low, pouty whine from Inanna. There was a soft snuffling as she tried to stick her head beneath the car -- but the lift Muriel had it on barely made enough room for him, let alone the head of a full grown wolf dog. He pushed her back with his elbow, his hands covered in car grease, and told her to back up. An awkward shimmying-scoot later, and Muriel was sitting up, breathing in a deep breath of air that hadn’t been completely laced with the smell of car exhaust and oil. He patted the ground for the tattered, grease spotted rag on the floor, and wiped off his hands, glaring at the smug looking Inanna as he did so. 

“Fine,” he muttered. “Fine. We’ll take a drive. But not a long one, okay? I… I have to finish this.” He lifted a dismal hand and gestured the Honda, shaking his head a little. “We need that money.” 

She gave a low huff, but leapt up to her feet anyways, bounding up to Muriel and sniffing eagerly at his ankles when he had pushed himself up to a stand. 

Muriel stepped over to the table, hand crafted from pieces of plywood Muriel had found for cheap at the junkyard near the edge of town, and took a long swig of his lukewarm water before pouring some on his hands. They were stained black from the work -- the grease had sunken into his coarse fingertips and was stuck in his nails -- but they were always like that, really. He just shrugged and wiped off his face with his forearm before reaching up to undo his hair. He slipped the band over his wrist as his hair fell down from its ponytail, sticking to the back of his neck and curtaining his face with its choppy length. He only put it up for working. He thought it looked stupid anywhere else. 

Inanna yipped at him, growing impatient. Muriel grumbled something in return, and started out towards the open garage door, squinting at the bright light of the sun as he stepped out onto the cracked pavement of the shops parking lot. There was only one car there, parked by his little corner mechanic shop, and it was his. A tarnished, hunter green, two door pick-up truck that could have easily been older than him. Equipped with scratches, dents, and AC problems that would put the old Honda Civic to shame. Muriel started towards it, letting the excited Inanna run towards it and hop by the passenger door, waiting for her daily ride around town. 

He never knew why she liked it so much. Perhaps it was to feel the wind on her face and through her fur but… Muriel could never go that fast anyways. Not only would his truck have a vehicle’s equivalent to a heart attack, but the roads around there were too dangerous to drive so fast. They were riddled with potholes and cracks and bad parking jobs -- Muriel always made sure never to go over thirty-five unless he was far out from town and on those forest backroads both he and Inanna loved so much. 

Not to mention his car was loud. He didn't want to upset any of his… neighbors. South End wasn’t the safest place in Vesuvia. Muriel knew that painfully well. 

Once Inanna was in her claw marked, torn leather seat, and Muriel was in his, they were on their way. The windows were rolled down and the old motor spluttered along the old roads of South End. Muriel kept his head low, hair obscuring his peripherals but also hiding his face from anyone who would lean up and watch the old pick-up drive by. It was times like then Muriel really hated the old thing. Attention was the thing he liked least. 

Somehow he was just really good at getting it… it wasn’t the biggest mystery, actually. A man of Muriel’s size and look are bound to attract a few stares. 

His old car grumbled along the road, the heavy air alive with the sound of its groaning engine and squeaky brakes. Inanna hung out the side of the car, letting the wind flap her ears and loll her tongue. As happy as she was for the fresh air, Muriel knew he shouldn’t have been out long — the man that had dropped off his car seemed like one to easily upset. Muriel wanted to get the Honda done as quickly as possible, and get that man as far away from his shop as possible. He was loud. Angry. Muriel has enough loud, angry people in his life — he didn’t need one more. 

He was getting ready to turn back when he saw it. Turning the corner around a line of rundown houses and their run down cars and their rundown people. Bright and shiny beneath the relentless sun, sat one of the prettiest cars he had ever seen. It was like a diamond in the rough — beautifully polished and handsome looking against the grime of South End. It was the latest model of Jeep, painted the color of a deep magenta, a bright pop of color that was rare to the usual grey tarnish of most of the cars around that part of town. 

Powerful wheels. Strong build. The perfect car for driving out in the forest — in the middle of nowhere, just like Muriel liked it. He stopped to stare at it, unconsciously slamming on the breaks and only realizing when Inanna offered a light yip of surprise. He put a hand on her back in apology, but he didn’t lift his foot off the break, nearly feeling as though he could drool over such a beautiful looking car. The only thing he could change was the color… the magenta was a little hard on the eyes in his opinion. A deep shade of green was his obvious preference. 

He dragged his eyes along the body of the car, finally wondering just what such a thing could have been doing in his part of town, when his eyes caught on the front left tire. Completely popped — flat and hanging off the side of the metal wheel, shredded almost. It was the look of someone who hit a pothole too fast and then continued to work the tire. Muriel gave a low snort, wondering who could have been stupid enough to wreck such a nice car with such nice new tires when the culprit came walking round the front of the car-

“He’s definitely lost,” Muriel muttered to Inanna, looking the stranger up and down. 

Inanna gave a low whine of agreement.

Muriel could tell it right off the bat just from how the stranger had been dressed. A clean, colorful sweater over a white collared shirt, perfectly fitted and tailored pants, and a pair of bright white socks worn beneath strappy sandals. The stranger had rounded Lennon sunglasses pushed up onto his forehead and resting in his unruly curls of snowy white hair. Like the car, the colors of this stranger’s outfit were unsightly, but the outfit certainly did put Muriel’s tattered, grease stained Nine-Inch-Nails shirt and ripped blue jeans from the nearest thrift shop to shame. 

The stranger stepped around his car and crouched beside his wheel, looking the tire up and down and around before lifting his hand to his chin. Muriel watched, curious -- wondering if he even knew how to change out that ratty tire for the one hooked to the back of his Jeep. After a few moments of watching the stranger stand around hopelessly, tapping on his phone and groaning over ignored calls, Muriel figured he didn't know how to change a tire. 

“Oh well,” Muriel mumbled, easing his foot off of the break. 

Inanna gave a low whine, turning to look at Muriel in the eyes. 

He frowned at her. “What?” 

A low huff from the talkative wolf dog. She looked back over to the Jeep and its driver, before turning back to Muriel. 

Muriel shook his head. “No,” he said, easing off the break some more. His car began to roll forwards -- he planned on driving past that weirdly dressed stranger and his beautiful car without a second glance. “They can figure it out. I have work to do.”

Inanna’s voice was in his head -- the little magic in his system kicking into motion with his wolf’s next little whine. 

But money.

Muriel pressed on the break again, leaning up straight in his seat. The light flush of magic faded away -- that warm trickle in his chest melting into whatever abyss it had hiccuped up from -- but that didn't mean Inanna’s little quip hadn’t been hanging rather presently in his conscience. Muriel narrowed his eyes, squinting as he looked back at the stranger and his car. New Jeep, designer glasses, the all around look of liveliness and, for lack of better words, class? All signs for someone with a little bit of money on their hands. It was an easy fix, that tire -- an easy fix Muriel could accomplish cheaper than any of the name-brand car shops out in the richer parts of Vesuvia. He could even throw in an oil change for a nice tip… 

He bit his bottom lip, flicking his eyes off to the side and drumming his fingertips upon the steering wheel. It would be a long shot, of course… and the idea of pulling up and talking to the strange did seem to set his teeth on edge but… Inanna was right. But money. Money was something he’d been rather short on lately -- he had until Monday to get up to where he needed to be for his payments. Two jobs in one day and a nice tip would help him tremendously so… 

Not to mention, if that strange had been remotely dangerous, his magic would have warned him so. It was really only good for those two things -- the occasional blurt from his semi-familiar and a blurry sense on who was good and who wasn’t. 

With a low sigh, Muriel eased up the brakes completely, and slowly pulled up to the stranger and his pink car. Muriel’s tires crunched on the broken cement of the pothole the stranger must have demolished, his loud engine spluttering. He waited until the stranger turned around to look at him, wide purple-blue eyes meeting his own before Muriel flicked them away to the ground, his cheeks gaining some color for a reason he couldn’t quite gather. 

“Do you… uh… need help?” 

His voice was gruff and awkward. Nothing like it had been when he was speaking to Inanna. He couldn’t imagine what he must have looked like to that colorfully dressed stranger. Big and grease stained -- unkempt stubble and long, shaggy hair. Ugly scars and a scary voice. He knew right then and there with yet another flush of color to his cheeks that the stranger was going to turn him away. It was stupid of him to even try. 

And yet, this stranger, his reaction was exactly the opposite of what Muriel expected. He didn’t even look Muriel up and down, not a hint of discomfort or disbelief, no sign of disgust or fear- instead, he let out a groaned sigh of relief. It was as if he’d been there a while, trying to call people but not having service or getting one bar and having the person on the other end being too busy. Looking helplessly at the decimated tire and not knowing what he could possibly do to fix it.

In fact, he had been there for almost an hour. Not that it was just the wheel that made him stop off, he’d been needing to get some fresh air for a while. That was just when he noticed the wheel and connected that to the unpleasant noises he’d been hearing while driving and the bumpiness. He’d decided then that it was safer to stop off, even if he’d been on the way to a job. There was no harm, he figured, in being five minutes late. He expected himself to be able to figure out how to change the tire in a few minutes at the most, but here he was- an hour later, still no closer to even getting the wheel off, lacking the tools needed even if he knew how to do it, and not sure if the tire on the back of his car would even come off. 

He might have had a nice car, but he was far from an expert. That was why he went for a car that he’d thought would last a while without needing work. Poor driving had proven him wrong.

When he heard the voice, he turned his attention away from his phone, looking up at the man who had come to aid him. Even if he was approached by a stranger, even if he was being spoken to by someone he’d never known before, even if this was a totally unfamiliar and possibly dangerous situation, he didn’t seem the slightest bit threatened or intimidated. That, already, made him stand out a little more than his hair and clothes already did. What made him just a little more unusual was the unmistakable quirk of his lips that tugged them into a smile. Not many people around here smiled, even fewer smiled when their car was broken down and someone like Muriel offered help.  
“Do you know enough to help?” he asked as an evident invite for Muriel to tell him what he had to offer, what he could do to help.

 

Before Muriel could answer, however, the stranger held up a hand as his phone beeped, taking it from his pocket and looking at his phone. Some text sent almost an hour ago that had only just gotten enough signal to come through, from an unmarked contact. He skimmed it, flicking the message away with a little frown. He held an expensive phone, the newest iPhone model with some personal additions and a phone case with the same vibrance as his outfit, a print of a purple snake in the centre. He’d even had a little hook added to the case so that he could add charms to it, a variety of chains and toys hanging from the bottom of his colourful phone. Everything about him seemed to be headache-inducing compared to this grim environment.

The strangers fingers, adorned with gorgeous rings, drummed along the back of the phone case, manicured nails tapping against the case as some absent behavioural habit. He tucked the phone into the pocket of his pants, almost seeming irritated for a moment but the hint of anger was gone the second it arrived. It was something to do with his job- something about his being late, most likely. 

And, instead of dwelling on it, he had soon turned his attention to Muriel once more.

“Sorry. There’s no service out here- I’ve been trying to call someone to help for hours. If you know how to help, I’ll take what I can get.”

Muriel just nodded his head a little, already feeling regret tie up his system like sharp wire. This stranger seemed… talkative. Muriel was not.

He extended a hand, his fingers covered in jewels and his wrist littered with bangles and bracelets. He even had a glimpse of a tattoo peeking out from under his sleeve. That same smile was curling onto his lips again, as if there was something amusing to him about the situation. How he could be so positive in this environment, with a messed up tire, was a mystery.  
“I’m Asra. And you are?”

Muriel’s eyes widened at Asra’s extended hand, his own two hands tightening their grip on the steering wheel -- almost to the point of blanching his knuckles white. He cleared his throat and looked away, turning his head back around so he stared at the dirty windscreen of his truck. 

“Muriel. My… hands are dirty,” he said, voice low and blunt. “I can fix your tire… but i’ll have to tow your car to my shop. If that’s alright…”

It was as if he was trying to push this stranger -- Asra -- away. Inanna gave a low huff and nudged his shoulder with her snout, once again reminding him of the money. Muriel just shrugged her off, closing his eyes and shaking his head a little before turning back to the stranger and his bright, obnoxious colors. 

“I’d understand if you didn't want to but… I’m the closest mechanic in town. It’s your call, I guess…”

Asra grinned, seeming a little more relieved now, glad that he was being offered help.  
“Well, how could I say no to such an offer?” He glanced back to his car, patting the bonnet. “Oh, but I’ve got a friend and I can’t leave her out of my sight, so she needs to come too.”

And once more, before Muriel could grumble again in response, he extended his other hand to Muriel as a purple snake came coiling up around his arm, her head poking out from under his sleeve for a moment, looking at Muriel as she began to slither out of his sleeve. “She likes to hide,” Asra explained, as if he needed to give a reason why she’d been in his shirt. 

Big!

Faust had a chirping sort of voice, excited, happy, that rung about in Asra’s head. Her voice was comforting, giving the same effect as returning home after weeks away, the same kind of serenity and peacefulness as finding somewhere perfectly alone, finding somewhere that had a special sort of energy that compelled you and made you happy in a way you couldn’t quite describe. That was why he wouldn’t let her out of his sight.

Well, that was one of the reasons.

“She likes you,” he chirped to Muriel in the same sort of tone, Faust slithering confidently closer to Muriel.

Muriel didn't comment, but the surprising sight of a snake drew his eyes back to the stranger. It didn't take much to connect the dots -- the piece together that the pale snake curled about Asra’s arm had been his familiar. Muriel didn't know how that made him feel… confident, powerful magicians were the ones bold enough to even get familiars in the first place. He was the exception of course. The connection between him and Inanna was… accidental. 

Slowly, Muriel turned to see how Inanna had even reacted -- if she had even seen the possible new chew toy slithering so innocently closer. She had, but she didn't seem to think anything of it to Muriel’s slight relief. She just perkered her ears up and cocked her head, before leaning down to impatiently chew on a ripped leather flap on the passenger seat, antsy about being stopped for so long. Muriel gave a low sigh and a shrug, and turned back to Asra. 

“I’ll move my…-” he hesitated before the word ‘wolf’, “-dog to the back and hook up your car.”

Without another word, Muriel put the gear in drive and rolled forwards a bit, turning and reversing so his truck sat just before Asra’s car. Muriel pushed open his door and slipped out from beneath his seat -- instinctively ducking his head so he wouldn't hit it before letting his boots hit the pavement of the road. He looked Asra up and down, not surprised he was a near head or two taller than him, and then started for the passenger door. She seemed to know what was going on, the excitement was clear on her face when Muriel pulled the creaking passenger door open. She leapt from the seat, hopping around Muriel as he walked back to the cargo bed, nipping at his ankles and whining with happy anticipation. He had barely clicked the cargo door open before she leapt up onto it, her claws clicking on the old metal of the pick-up bed. Muriel sighed, and ducked his head a little so Asra couldn’t see him smile, reaching a hand up to pat Inanna’s head before leaning back and fixing his features. 

He wordlessly nodded to the passenger’s seat, and then started towards Asra’s Jeep. 

Asra, by then, had already gotten into the passenger seat and was clicking in the seatbelt, Faust still curled up about his wrist and letting her head sit on his hand. When he had closed the door, he held out his other hand and let her slither out of his sleeve and string herself around his hands, happily sticking her tongue out at him.  
“He seems nice,” he told her, glancing back at Muriel, letting him figure out what to do. “Helpful. He’s pretty big- I didn’t think he’d be that big when i saw him in the car- but he’s not too talkative. What do you think?”

Faust, her eyes shining up at him, flicked her tongue.  
Too big to squeeze!! Came her inevitable chirp, stirring a soft laugh from Asra, who pet the top of her scaly head.  
“Is that the only problem you have with him?” he asked, about to start talking again when the car door beside him was opened. Asra glanced over at Muriel, still smiling.

“How far is the trip?” he asked instead, Faust delving back into his sleeve and slithering up past his shoulders, only barely noticeable as she settled around his neck and only visible because of the way her head left a bump under his collar and the flicking purple tail sticking out by his collarbone. He’d picked up on Muriel’s distinct refusal to carry conversation, but he didn’t mind it too much. He’d had far worse company from certain people who didn’t seem to know how to close their mouth. He would just keep the questions to a minimum and avoid topics where a response would be needed, allowing Muriel to listen to him talk without responding too much.

Muriel had linked up their cars with some chain he found gathered up in the floor of his cargo bed, working with expert hands that hooked Asra’s Jeep up with his pick-up in maybe a minute or so flat. He stood up, wiped the sweat from his brow with his forearm again, and started back towards the driver’s seat. He caught Asra’s question just as he had settled his hand on the door handle, stopping him for just a moment. He had to work hard to keep from rolling his eyes at his luck as he slipped into his seat and pulled the car door to a close. Muriel would have to keep it together for the money -- he reminded himself of that as he turned the key in the ignition. 

“Not that far,” he said quietly, the engine needing a few twists from the keys before spluttering to life. 

He casted a glance at Asra, and the very poor condition of his seat -- the scratched and gnawed on flaps of leather, the way it shook with the vibrating of the truck’s motor. He was sure those nice leather seats of Asra’s own car were nothing like that… again Muriel found himself jealous. He would never get his hands on something so luxurious. Not if he worked as hard as he could for a hundred years. 

Muriel’s system was a little bitter at the thought, but he ignored it, setting the gears of his truck in drive and starting down the road, carefully avoiding potholes as he went. 

Asra was talkative, but Muriel could tell there was some restraint. Either he grew tired of the awkward silence Muriel would give him when it was his turn to speak, or he just figured there was no use in trying. Asra would just hum something about a house they passed or a shop they passed, occasionally giving Muriel some trivial fact about himself, inspired from something he saw. Muriel didn't know how someone could make so much conversation about a place so… dismal. The only thing Muriel saw driving through South End were grey houses and grey cars and grey people, hollowed, tired, and desperate from the working force. 

It started to make him wonder just what Asra was doing there…

They finally pulled into the driveway of Muriel’s shop about ten or so minutes later. Muriel only had one garage and it was currently taken up by that Honda Civic, so he just parked Asra and his car in the middle of his very vacant parking lot. Muriel pushed his door open and left the car without another word, moving back to the cargo bed and clicking it open so Inanna could hop down from it to. He told her quietly to go inside and drink something, patting her head again and scratching the space below her ear. She listened, licking at his fingers before turning and trotting towards the open garage. 

Muriel looked up at Asra as he undid the tow chains, who had just gotten out of the truck as well. The white haired stranger had been watching him with a smile. Muriel wondered why he’d do such a thing… smile at him like that. Muriel also wondered why the sight caused his hands to fumble around the chains and cause them to fall with a loud, obnoxious clatter upon the baking black pavement of the parking lot. Blushing and scowling, Muriel ducked to grab them, set them down in his cargo bed, and then stood straight up, looking Asra’s car over. 

“It’ll take about fifteen minutes for the tire,” he said, speaking strictly on business terms. “I could… do an oil change too, I guess. The price could be a clean fifty with the oil change, forty without it.” Muriel looked up at him, expecting a response.

“Only fifty?” Asras response came, a little confusion on his face. “I know people back where I’d live who would charge hundreds for that.” He took out his wallet nonetheless, and began to flick through the notes he had in there- more than most people would carry around in cash, which only furthered the belief that he was rich- and made it even more suspicious that he would be somewhere like here. “I haven’t had service this good in a long time- especially not from someone who I haven’t had to call first.” 

The smile was back on his lips, having only fallen for a few moments, and he looked up at Muriel without a hint of fear or intimidation. He was the first person who had done that in so long, and likely the first kind person who had ever done that.

He had so many more questions he wanted to ask, so much that he wanted to know- he only rarely came to places like these for business and he was always insatiably curious about every little detail of life that he could get his hands on, but he didn’t want to push Muriel too much and make him uncomfortable. He’d wait a while before he asked anything else, wanting to be sure that Muriel would be as comfortable as possible at all times.

He stopped rifling through his wallet for a moment.  
“Should I just give the money to you here, or have you got a tip jar I could put it into?”

Muriel looked at him for a moment, his head cocked, his brow a little furrowed. The comment about his service had stuck with him, Asra’s praise hanging in his system for a bit out of pure... confusion. He didn't comment on it, of course, but it still caused him to falter a bit, lapsing the two of them into a moment of awkward silence before he closed his eyes and cleared his throat. He lifted a hand and pointed to the garage. 

“There’s, uh, a table in there. The tip jar is on the tool box.” The tool box Muriel needed to fix Asra’s tire. “Could you, uh… maybe grab it for me. The tool box. Not the jar-” he stopped himself, face going a little pink. “I need it for the tire.”

Asra nodded, smiling a little, finding this sudden display of flusteredness to be amusing as he began into the garage. He took a variety of notes from his wallet and rolled them up together, adding a little ‘Thank you!’ note in the middle and putting it into the jar before grabbing the toolbox and returning.

He didn’t say anything else too flattering or that would require much of a response, figuring that Muriel would need a little break to recover from the compliment.  
“Is this the right one?” he asked, waiting for Muriel to take it from him. 

Muriel just nodded, taking the tool box from asra and pretending he didn't feel the fleeting warmth rush through his nerves when their fingers touched -- it was another sign of strong magic. He just mumbled something about there being a fan Asra could sit by in the garage if he wanted to, and started over to the tire to get to work. 

He was right, the tire was a relatively easy fix and took about fifteen minutes. The bulk of all that time had been clearing out the shreds of rubber Asra had got caught in the wheel, but even then it had been easy. The tire came off and the new one went on in a perfect little exchange, one every mechanic hopes for when they’re asked to change a tire. Muriel fitted the new one on, checked over it once or twice, and then stood back up, wanting to tie his hair up but also not wanting Asra to see him in a ponytail. He gave a low sigh and wiped the sweat from his brow, feeling the slight sting of sunburn across the backs of his arms and the spots of his neck that his hair didn't cover. He didn't mind it -- a cold shower and some cheap aloe from the nearest drug store would fix it like they always did. 

Muriel told Asra that the tire was back on in a gruff sort of tone as he gathered everything he needed to change out the oil, and then ventured back out into the blazing sun. Inanna had joined him that time, trotting by his side as he made his way back to Asra’s colorful Jeep and plopping down beside him as he got to work. Oil changes were always dirty, but they were the easiest thing to do in his opinion. There was no thought to it -- just basic procedure and auto-piloted memory. They were also the easiest thing to milk money out of, especially if the customer was in desperate need of one. Not that Muriel was that good at swindling money, though. If anything, the customer’s had more power over him in that department…

There was the slap of a car door somewhere close, the sound causing both Muriel and Inanna to tense up. He stood straight, leaning up out of Asra’s car hood, holding his hands up awkwardly by his chest so he didn't get car grease or oil on anything as he looked for the source of the sound. To his slight dismay, the customer from before had been stumbling his way, having hopped from a car Muriel hadn’t seen pick him up. A hushed curse left his lips as he remembered the Honda Civic and his time crunch, eyes snapping to the heavy watch he wore on his wrist. It read 4:17 in the afternoon, and the Honda was nowhere near able to drive. 

To make matters worse, Muriel could see Asra’s white hair in his peripheral, the wealthy stranger popping his head out from the garage to see who Muriel’s new visitor was. 

“Hey!” the man barked, having made his way up to Muriel. Inanna gave a low growl, raising her hackles as she moved her way behind Muriel, curling around his ankles and staring up at the very obviously drunk customer before him. “What are you doing? Are you done with mine? It doesn’t look fuckin’ done.” 

Muriel could smell the alcohol. He could smell it on the man’s clothes and his breath and his skin. It was as if he started drinking the moment he had left Muriel’s shop earlier that day. The scent made Muriel’s head hurt -- his nose scrunch a bit. He tried not to show it, though, already getting the idea the man was angry enough. 

“It’s… not…” he said slowly, reaching his hands down to wipe the grease and oil off on his pants. “I couldn’t find what, uh, was wrong with i-” 

“So you started working on another car?” the man asked, his voice raising in volume. 

Muriel swallowed hard, flicking his eyes off to the ground. Inanna had stopped growling, but her eyes and their contracted pupils were still trained on the loud drunk, ears pulled back flat on her head. Muriel wanted to reach down and pet her, tell her it was fine, but he didn't. He was frozen up in place, listening to the previous shout echo about his nearly empty lot. 

“I… it was an easier fix, sir,” he said, his own words quiet and small. “I was just going to get it done first-”

The man cut him off again. “But I was here first!” he shouted, words slurring more the louder he got. He took a threatening step forwards and Muriel tensed, head still turned away. Inanna growled again, but the man paid no attention to it. “I need this fucking car, man! This is all I’ve got!”

“I know but-”

“I told you I needed it done at four! It’s past fucking four! Why the hell isn’t my car done, asshole?”

Muriel’s head hurt. He couldn’t tell if it was from the shouting or the smell or simply how loudly his blood had been roaring in his ears. His throat clicked when he swallowed, his heart fluttered in his chest. The man was too close -- too loud. It had been a while since Muriel had been yelled at so harshly by a customer… the displays never failed to bring him back to someplace darker. Memories he didn't like to touch. 

“Can… can you please lower your voice…?” Muriel said softly, hands clenched so tightly at his sides, he could feel the bite of blunted nails digging into his palm. “Stop shouting…”

That was when things got… worse.

He didn't mean to jump so violently when the man jabbed a finger into his chest, but he did -- his muscles seemed to be twisted tight like coils with the tension, and they simply snapped at the contact. It was pathetic; Muriel could feel his brow furrow and his face redden to a deep shade of crimson at the sizzling feeling of nerves in the wake of his flinch. He settled his eyes closed and waited for the shouting again. 

“I’m not going to stand here and let Andre the fucking giant tell me to shut up!” he seemed the scream. “I’m allowed to be pissed off! That’s my- that’s my fucking car! You don’t want to get on my bad side -- I could make your life a living hell, do you hear me? Fix my fucking car, freak. Right n-!” 

“He told you to lower your voice,” came Asra’s voice from the doorway- calm, almost eerily so, but the most unsettling part of it was that Asra was no longer smiling. He hadn’t once lost his chipper demeanour since he’d had Muriel offer his help, but this? It seemed to set him off. He was stood in the doorway of the garage, but took a few steps toward the two of them now that he had their attention.

Muriel seemed relieved at the interruption- or that was what he hoped was the look on Muriel’s face.  
“In fact, he asked you pretty nicely if you could stop being so loud. What’s the problem here? Tell me. Maybe if you manage to act a little civil, I’ll let your screeching and your insults slide.”

The man turned, stumbling a little. His hand was still on Muriel’s chest, half because he forgot he’d even put it there, and half simply just because he needed him for balance. Muriel’s skin seemed to crawl at the contact, but he didn't push him away -- he simply looked off to the side, jaw muscles tense and pulsing with his tightly grit teeth. 

“Who the hell are you supposed to be?” the man asked in a slur, his voice a little softer, though oily with a drunken snide. “I’m the guy that paid to get his car fixed, and didn't even get it.” 

Muriel didn't even dare to mention that the man hadn’t paid him yet. 

“This is none of your fuckin’ business anyways,” the man snarled, turning back to Muriel. “What? Did you do his car first because he paid you more? He looks like the rich pansy type to be fuckin’ honest.” 

Inanna was still growling. Muriel shook his head a little, still not quite able to say anything.

Asra grabbed the man’s wrist and pulled it sharply away from Muriel’s chest, picking up on the discomfort that it brought.  
“I’m the one whose car got fixed,” he said sharply. “And when you come stumbling over here, drunk, and you start harassing my friend for doing his damn job.” His focus flicked to Muriel before the encounter could escalate much more, or before the man could process much of this. “Did he pay you?” he asked, his voice suddenly so much softer, so much kinder, now that he was talking to Muriel, the smile back on his lips as if to reassure him. The hand by Asra’s side was glowing very faintly, almost out of sight.

The smile and softness was just his way of reassuring Muriel that he trusted him and that he was listening to him. The glowing hand was for his self defense and nothing else- so that he could know that if the man tried to do anything, all it would take was one thrust of his hand and a little anger to end the argument. He wouldn’t do anything severe; he wasn’t the type to waste his magic on such an affair. Instead, he’d scare the man enough to make him back off, tell him to get his car tomorrow when he was sober, and send him on his way.

Muriel had stepped back when the hand was off of his chest, nearly tripping over Inanna when he did. His eyes went a little wide when Asra asked him that question, flicking up to the white haired stranger who had so casually called him ‘friend’ before. It took him a long moment or so to find the words to answer, his gaze flicked to the ground, avoiding both the man and Asra as he debated on telling the truth. 

“No… not yet…” he said after a while, shaking his head.

He closed his eyes when the drunken man gave an exasperated sort of sigh, knowing it was the wrong thing to say. He didn't know why he told the truth -- any other day and any other situation, he would have just shrugged his shoulders or nodded his head. The people around South End were dangerous. If the man claimed he could make Muriel’s life hell, Muriel had no doubt he wasn’t bluffing. 

Why Asra could get the truth out of him like that… he didn't know.

“There,” Asra said, turning to look at the man, pulling his hand from his wrist after a moment. “Then we have it settled. I paid upfront, you haven’t paid yet. Your car isn’t fixed because it was difficult. Problem solved, right? So you leave for a bit, come back to see if your car is done, and if it isn’t you come back again later.” His tone was still level, still a little flat, but it now held a little more to it- like each word was a subliminal threat, a challenge, ordering the man to try and refuse, to see where that would get him. 

He wasn’t going to let this man get the better of him or get the better of Muriel. Even if it meant stepping in and putting himself in the middle of it, he’d take the hit. He wasn’t going to let someone hurt Muriel- even if he hadn’t known him for that long.

“So you’ll leave now. I think the best outcome for us all would be you leaving and coming back later, when your car is done.” Even as he spoke, he knew that this wouldn’t be the end of it. The man was getting angrier now, and Muriel’s interruption would have made that worse in his eyes.

The man had his wrist in his hand, rubbing it as though Asra had burned him with his touch. His face was red with anger, his hazy, alcohol clouded eyes here narrowed and fuming. 

“Oh-ho-ho, you have really done it now,” he hissed, his tone a seething snarl. “You’re on my shit-list. You both fuckin’ are.” He turned to Muriel again, lifting a finger and pointing it. “Especially you. You think I don’t know where you fuckin’ live? You better lock your doors tonight, freak. I mean it.” 

Muriel’s face paled. He knew he shouldn’t have said anything -- he knew he should have lied. He shook his head a little, feeling panic start to rise up in his system. His words were soft when he spoke, but fast. Eager to please and to calm him down.  
“I can get your car done today if you want. Before it gets dark.” Inanna growled again. Muriel used what little magic he had to tell her to stop. 

The man scowled, taking a clumsy step towards Muriel again. “You already had that opportunity. I have a job at five, and I don’t have a way to get there. I’m not going to fuckin’ Uber to a drug meet! Get the car done right now, and maybe I won’t slash your Goddamn tires. Or break your fuckin’ windows.” 

“It’s… it’s going to take longer than an hour to fix,” Muriel said, his mouth a little dry. 

Muriel knew what was coming before the man even lifted his hand. He could see it in his face -- the anger, the malice, the reckless need to express it. He’d seen it all before and he’d see it all again, living in a place like South End. All Muriel could do was snap his eyes closed and turn his head, waiting for a shove. A punch. Some kind of blow he wouldn't retaliate. 

But… nothing seemed to land. 

Asra had grabbed the man’s hand and pulled him away before his fists had even gotten close. He’d wrapped his hand around the man’s wrist, tugging him over by his wrist and gripping onto his other wrist when it was swung at him, too.

 

Asra didn’t even say anything for a moment or so, an unfamiliar dark expression on his face, his unusual amethyst eyes darkening with rage that followed through to his voice when he found what he wanted to say. When he knew that he’d speak in a tone calm enough to avoid upsetting Muriel.

“Leave,” the word came out far more malicious than intended but Asra didn’t stop there. He didn’t manage his tone, either, letting the malice seep through his voice like venom from a snake bite. “I’ve been nice, Muriel’s been nice, but the hospitality is gone.” He dug his nails into the man’s wrists, the faint blue now curling up around both of his hands, energy surging through his body as the magic started to rush into his hands. As promised, though, he didn’t do much; he simply turned the man to be facing away from Muriel and the cars before pulling both hands back and driving them into the man’s chest.

The energy that coursed through him shocked the man, little crackles of electricity zapping from his fingertips to the man’s chest, where the impact had been, but it had also launched him backwards. He did only end up going back a meter or so, but he was lifted off of his feet enough to fall back on his ass. Asra took a step back, took a breath, and soothed his anger.

 

“Come back for your car tomorrow,” he said, his tone now sinister, a threat, not even challenging- just a direct order. “And get out of my damn sight.”

The man scrambled back a bit, a hand on his chest where the energy had hit him, patting around it as if he’d expected blood. When there was nothing, he pushed himself to his feet, and brushed himself off, staggering unevenly as he flicked his gaze from Asra to Muriel. He muttered something, using his favorite word (fukin’), and turned around, spitting a glob of phlegm on the ground before stumbling off to the sidewalk. His Uber was gone, so he just seemed to walk -- Asra watched him all the way until he turned around the corner. So did Inanna, her bristled fur finally settling. Muriel just kept his eyes on the black pavement of the parking lot. 

Asra had stuck up for him. He… he was angry on Muriel’s behalf. He’d never really had anyone act out for him in such a way in… well… ever. It made his head spin more than it already had been -- causing him to close his eyes and grit his teeth again as he tried to collect himself. 

There was an awkward silence, but it wasn’t as if Muriel hadn’t been used to them. He brought his hands up, watching the way his fingers trembled before squeezing them into tight fists and dropping them at his sides. He didn't know what to say -- he didn't know if he could say anything just yet. Muriel just resorted to nothing, turning around and shaking his head as he turned back to Asra’s car, letting Inanna press her head comfortingly into his leg as his shaky hands got back to work without another word. 

Asra turned to look at Muriel, approaching him, settling his hand very cautiously on Muriel’s arm while he was walking. Muriel tensed a little under the contact, eyes going a little wide -- but, just like with the drunk man, he didn't say anything.  
“I’m sorry you had to see that,” he said softly to him, trying to be reassuring in some way. “I didn’t want to do that but he wasn’t going to leave us alone without getting some incentive. When he was going to hurt you- I just couldn’t bear to see that happen. I wasn’t going to let that happen to you.”

He pulled his hand back after a moment or so, taking a slight step back to give Muriel his space.  
“I don’t think he’ll come back again, though. For a while, anway, if ever. Just… scrap his car if he doesn’t come back in the next few days, and if you have any more trouble let me know. I’ll give you my number- that way I can let you know if I have any more car trouble and you can let me know if you have any people trouble.”

He dug into one of his pockets and pulled out a pen- purple, of course- and looked up at Muriel.  
“Should I write it on your hand or have you got some spare paper?”

Muriel could barely even believe what he’d been hearing. He was sorry? He wanted to protect him? He wanted to give him his number? Why? Muriel didn't know how to respond -- what to say first and how to say it. He just ducked a little further into the car hood, ducking his head and turning his face so Asra could see him. It really was moments like then he was glad for his hair length. 

“Paper. In the garage.” His voice was still a little quiet, but he’d gruffened it up considerably so. He was back to his blunt, stoic nature from before -- all aside from the slight tremor in his hands. “You can just leave it by the tip jar.” 

He didn't know why he was entertaining Asra’s idea of giving him his number. Even if there was any sort of problem, Muriel would never call. Perhaps he was just going along with it to get Asra away for a bit. Yeah… yeah -- that’s what it was. 

There were the soft claps of sandals as Asra began to walk away towards the garage. Muriel didn't know why the sound caused him to lean up a bit -- nearly hitting his head on the hood of the Jeep in the process -- but it did. He turned his head and watched him go, a slight dilemma twisting in his chest at the sight of that unruly sweater and snowy hair… 

Muriel closed his eyes and just let the next word roll off of his tongue. 

“Thanks,” he blurted. There was a long pause before he willed himself to continue. “You… you didn't have to do that. You shouldn’t have.”

“You don’t need to thank me,” Asra said as he got to the door, turning to face Muriel and offering him another sincere smile. “Seriously, it’s no big deal. I wanted to help, so I helped.”

He disappeared inside for a few minutes but came back after a few moments. He wasn’t gone for long, but he came back after a few moments, a written number, and another little slip of money into the tips jar as if it would make him feel a little better, ease the guilt from his conscience. He felt guilty for what happened, even though he wasn’t to blame for someone else’s behaviour.

“How’s the car?” he asked instead, deciding it would be better to focus on that. “I’m pretty late to a job, but I can come by next time I’m in the area if you want. How does that sound?”

Muriel just shrugged, screwing the cap for the oil compartment back on tight and leaning up from the car hood. He set it down, hands much steadier from all the time alone — from all his attention being focused towards the car and not the chilling uneasiness taking its toll on his system. Muriel wiped his hands on his dirty jeans again, and turned to face Asra, his eyes on the ground. 

“If you even want to come back to this area,” he muttered, the coolness in his voice not so much meant for Asra as it was for the general situation. “The car is all done. The keys are in the ignition.”

There wasn’t much more to be said, so Muriel didn’t say it. He just watched Asra smile at him, nod, and then start towards his car. It wasn’t until the white haired stranger had been in the driver’s seat, Faust draped round his shoulders, his Jeep’s motor purring like a cat with every revving of the engine, that Muriel felt the same dilemma from before take ahold of him. Asra had just begun backing out of the parking lot when Muriel gave into his indecision, face flushing as he took a step forwards, looking past strands of sweaty hair and into Asra’s windshield. 

“I like your car,” he said, loud enough to be hear through the open window and past the engine.

“Thanks, I think yours is pretty nice too,” Asra said with a smile, Faust’s head perking up as she looked over at Muriel.  
Bye!! Her voice rung in his head, and Asra offered a smile.  
“Faust says goodbye, too. She’ll miss you.” He leant back in his chair, sinking into the soft leather, closing his eyes and relaxing. “I’ll see you soon,” he promised Muriel, rolling his window up and revving the engine again, the machine starting up with a loud, rumbling purr.

Then Asra drove off, his beautiful Jeep rolling down the wrecked roads of South End — likely on the lookout for any more potholes. 

Muriel stood for a few moments beneath the baking sun, still watching the corner that the Jeep had disappeared around long after it was gone. He gave a low sigh, one Inanna echoed where she sat at his side. Muriel set a hand on her head and pat her, shaking his head a little, that magenta car and those amethyst eyes stuck in his head. 

I’ll see you soon. 

“He was weird,” Muriel said, his eyes still fixed on that corner. 

Inanna gave a huff in reply, licking at his fingers.  
Nice, her quiet voice seemed to correct in his head. Muriel looked at her with a furrowed brow, feeling the magic ease away until all there was had been the buzz in its wake. 

“Stop doing that,” he muttered, shaking his head a little. Despite his words and his flat tone, he leaned down to pet behind her ears, massaging the place she liked to be rubbed the most before pushing his hand back -- fingers combing through her dark fur. 

When he spoke again, his voice had softened into a murmur. “It’s going to be a long night. I won’t sleep much. We should go home.” 

It was roughly three hours before normal closing time, but Muriel could already feel the brewing of a rough night ahead of them. The drunken man’s threats had begun to resurface -- they began to twist up in Muriel’s head and build the usual tension in his system. The usual tension that was always sitting idle, waiting to be set off again. The jab had been what had done it. The raised hand after that. Latches to the floodgates that would flow and stream into a night of fretfully checking windows and locks. Of wringing his hands together and keeping guard at the door -- as if he’d do anything to anyone who tried to break in.

There was no point of staying at the shop anyways. It wasn’t as if he could work. Just the look of the Honda Civic made Muriel’s stomach turn. 

Luckily, Inanna understood perfectly. 

They started back towards the garage together, Muriel going about his usual closing routine: turning the sign around on the single, yellowed window, shutting off the buzzing, tubed bulbs of the hanging lights, cleaning off his tools with a rag and the old sink in the corner. The summer sun was well on its way to setting -- it was around five, after all -- but the air was still hot and baking, even as Muriel clicked off the little fan on his desk. He gathered his stuff and pushed them into his pockets, almost forgetting to check the tip jar. He would have in his hurry to leave, really, if it wasn’t for the glimpse he got of a white sheet of paper and the note scrawled upon it in pretty handwriting. 

Asra’s number, followed by a simple ‘Don’t hesitate to call’. Beneath that had been a signature. And then after that had been… 

A heart. 

Muriel tried to ignore the rush of heat to his face at the little doodle, sighing bitterly as he stuff the note into his back pocket -- resisting the urge to squeeze his fist and crumple it up out of embarrassment. It was then his gaze found the tip jar, and the rather fat roll of cash sitting so neatly inside. Muriel forgot Asra had paid in cash -- it was a little relief on a day full of exhaustion. 

Most of his payments had to be in cash.

He picked up the mason jar and tipped it over, the money falling out into his palm. The fifty dollar bill was there, crisp and clean as ever… which meant the bigger roll had to have been the tip. Confused, Muriel slipped the fifty into his pocket with the note and began to unroll the second wad, narrowing his eyes to see what kind of bills they were…

Muriel’s whole body went cold at the 100 printed on the first dollar. He let out an undignified squeak at the 100 printed on the second dollar. The third one hundred dollar bill nearly had him on the floor, his legs wobbling, his knees buckling. 

Three hundred dollars. 

Asra had tipped him three hundred dollars.

Muriel’s wide, nearly horrified eyes fell upon the doodle of the heart beside Asra’s signature while his own heart did backflips in his chest.

Who was that guy?

~~~

Asra left Muriel’s only about three hours prior. The deal he’d been late for had been rough but it was done, dealt with, and now he was working on something extra. A piece on the side. Something that he was doing that was selfish, yes, but selfless in the same kind of way. Something for Muriel, the kind stranger that had helped him without knowing who he was. Someone who would be in his thoughts for a while- someone he planned on keeping safe.

He was outside of a shit looking house. Run down, with weeds growing outside it and ivy climbing up the walls, infesting it, burrowing in the cement between the worn bricks. It was a gross place, with broken and boarded up windows and a busted front door that didn’t lock properly anymore. It was easy to knock open. Of course it was- he threw his shoulder against it once and the damaged lock swung open. The house inside was worse than outside.

There was litter, bottles, all kinds of things strewn around by the door, a lot of things discarded and abandoned. The floors were old and wooden, though the room down the hall was a faded orange carpet that had been moth-eaten. It seemed old. Did this man actually have a job? He likely spent everything that he earned on more to drink, more to waste time. This was a rough place, everything that he’d seen so far made that clear. Muriel’s jumpiness had made it clear.

So he entered. He pushed open the door to the house, he took a few steps inside, the floorboards creaking underneath him. It would have been a giveaway that he was there- normally he would have made it a point to avoid creaking floorboards, but he didn't care now. He knew that a few mistakes were nothing.

He scanned the room, stopping still and being silence. He just needed to wait now. He just needed to pause, to orient himself. He couldn't hear anything for a few moments, but then he processed it. He heard it. When he paused, he could hear the soft and the even breaths. Someone was asleep here. There was only one person here, one set of breaths, one sleeping person breathing easily. If there was just one person, though... then that would be good.

That meant that this would be successful. It was more likely to be, anyway. Asra sent a glance up the stairs, pausing, but the breathing wasn't coming from there. In fact, it didn't seem like anyone had gone up the stairs in a long while. The upstairs was even worse than the bottom floor, though with a dismal sort of abandonment instead of the same recklessness

Some people, as it turned out, were beyond being helped. Some people were selfish, horrible, vile monsters that nothing could be done to save them or help them. Right now, he just had to do the best he could. He didn't have time to try and fix anything- He needed a quick solution that could work long term.

But that wasn't important. He had reasons, that much was clear. He always had reasons- his job, his own safety, and now Muriel's safety.

Like he said; he had reasons.

So he crept ever closer to that door, the one that lead to the room, the room that was the source of the soft breathing and clearly help the sleeping victim-to-be. He was cautious as he got through to the living room, fixing the silencer onto his gun. He turned his attention to the room for a moment, studying it. No fur on the walls or floor meant no animals, nothing that would need looking after and nothing that would require extra looking after once the job was done, nothing that would need more caution or more effort.

That made this easier.

Looking around, there were no photos on the wall. Nothing. Signifying that he had no family. He knew the man had a phone, but it wasn't like there would be any kind of an issue. He wouldn't need to do much after this.

If the hard part was supposed to be pulling the trigger, then this would be a piece of cake. Asra hadn't even hesitated before the bullet, pointed the gun between the man’s eyes. There was no lecture, no long dragged out enjoyment of the kill as there often would be. This was strictly business. This was a favour for a friend, yes, but it could be woven into the world of work and someone else would deal with the mess.

That was why this was so easy.

If pulling the trigger was the hardest part, he was lucky that it was all he had to do. He was lucky that it had gotten so easy- like it was part of a mundane routine. That the earplugs blocked out the reverberating thrum that still echoed despite the silencer. He was lucky that pulling the trigger had gotten as easy as clicking a lock shut on a door, or as snapping his fingers. He was lucky.

And Muriel was going to be left alone. Muriel was pretty lucky, too, having someone so reliable and so handy with a gun. Someone who could get rid of trouble.

Not that he was arrogant enough to make it about him, or about some grand favour. He knew what he was doing. he knew the effect it would have. He knew the loss of life was a harsh, cruel tragedy, but he also knew that some people deserved what they got.

People like his boss. People like this man. People who were killers. People who were monsters. People who did harm for the enjoyment. People who didn't care about anyone.

But for someone like Muriel? Someone who was kind-hearted, someone who was loveable, someone who faced more harm than good, who didn't deserve any of it. Muriel deserved to be rid of the issues and the people that caused issues. He didn't need that burden weighing down his shoulders.

Asra may have only known Muriel for a short while, but something just felt right when he saw the blood dribbling along the floor, when he knew that this person wouldn't be harassing someone like Muriel much longer.

This felt right.

And he was sure Muriel would be relieved to be left alone, too, so he tucked his gun into the holster on his pocket and turned to leave, his coloured clothes now replaced with a dark blue suit with a black shirt- something to keep him hidden from sight. His hair was hidden under a hat, too, wide-brimmed to be used to cover his eyes. His hat had a snake pin on it, so did his lapel and his cuffs were decorated with a snake cufflinks. 

But the job was done. And, with Faust curled up in his pocket, her own little earmuffs fixed to her head, he began back to his beautiful purple jeep, and he began to drive away.

The job was done.


	2. Payments and Cafe's

Muriel had been shaking his head, eyes dully focused on the stack of hundreds on the table. 

“I need to call him,” he muttered, marking what had to be the two-dozenth time he had said such a thing to the wolf curled beneath the table at his feet. “He needs to take this back. I can’t have it.”

The neat roll of three-hundred dollars sat upon Muriel’s little dining table, as it had been for the last few days prior. Placed in the very middle, hallowing the old wooden surface it had been so delicately placed upon -- beginning to gather dust beneath the yellow, spluttering light of Muriel’s apartment kitchen. He didn't put the money in his wallet. He didn't put the money in his pocket. He certainly didn't put the money beneath the mattress, where the stash for each of his future payments had been kept for safekeeping. Such crisp, clean money -- such powerful pieces of paper -- they didn't deserve any of that. They barely deserved the humble spot upon his kitchen table, out in the open for anyone to see or steal, but Muriel didn't want to touch it again. It felt wrong. Like he’d dirty them somehow. 

Days had passed. Days since never hearing of that drunken man again. Days of coming home from the shop, sweaty and exhausted, and plopping down in front of that stack of money to stare. Days since Muriel held Asra’s three hundred dollars in the palm of his hand -- all of that money in just three little slips of paper rolled into a wad. He had held three hundred dollars before. Hell, Muriel’s payments were always three hundred dollars, sometimes more depending on his mood. But… it never felt so special. Those handfuls of crumpled twenties and fifties he had collected from sweaty pockets or old wallets at work never felt like much whenever he’d hand it all over. But Asra’s money? It was like touching gold. 

Muriel didn't have the right to such a thing. 

He leaned back in his creaky seat, still staring at the money. The plate of eggs that sat at the edge of his little dining table were growing cold, but Muriel didn't seem to care. Eggs at eight o’clock at night were never the most appetizing meal, but the fridge was nearly barren and the chicken farmer Muriel worked for on weekends -- the one at the edge of town -- made sure Muriel had a surplus of them, so eggs were the best choice. That, or dog food, but he was sure Inanna wouldn't appreciate that. Once his payment was cashed in, he’d go food shopping. But until then he was on eggs for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

“I can’t take this from him,” Muriel said. “I need to call him.” 

Your money. Inanna sounded tired in his head. Muriel didn't have the strength to feel guilty for her beneath all of the guilt for Asra. 

“It is not,” Muriel said back, nearly aghast. “I can’t take it.” 

You need it.

Muriel shook his head again. “I don’t. I have money in the mattress to last another three payments.”

Spend it on you.

He blinked, a little stunned at the idea. It hadn’t crossed him yet -- the mere concept of spending that money on himself. On a good food run for the grocery store. On a mattress larger than a queen, if he could even fit it in his single roomed apartment. On the shop. On his car. Three hundred dollars could take a man like Muriel a long way to some resemblance of comfort -- on at least a week of not living paycheck to payment and payment to paycheck. Of course, the moment the slight consideration rose into focus, Muriel shot the idea down. 

Payments always come first. He couldn’t afford to fall behind. 

Just as he was about to voice his bitter rebuttal, there was a knock at his door. 

Muriel jumped, eyes shooting wide as he turned in his chair. Tuesday. It was Tuesday night. Muriel nearly forgot. He pushed up to his feet, settling a hand on Inanna’s head and smoothing down her bristled fur before making his slow way over to his apartment door. His work boots clomped the whole way there.

He knew who it was even before he undid the locks. Luckily, he didn't even have to make eye contact. He didn't even had to unlatch the lock-chain, letting the gold links pull taut as the door cracked. The man behind the door was there for one thing and one thing only. 

“Boss wants six-hundred this week,” the man said, voice low. He was wearing a mask over the bottom half of his face, as if Muriel hadn’t seen him before. They knew each other well, actually. Not only did Muriel know Ludovico from the streets when he lived on them, but he also worked beside him for however long he was under ‘Boss’s’ contract. 

He never liked Ludovico. 

Muriel swallowed hard, face paling a bit. Why he wanted six hundred after five straight weeks of easy three hundred payments, Muriel didn't know. He just knew it would set him and his mattress stash back another whole week. He nodded, however, mumbling something about being right back before easing his door to a close. Muriel turned around, starting towards the mattress when Inanna’s voice chirped up in his head again. 

Table. 

With a sigh, Muriel’s eyes trailed from his metal framed mattress and back towards that little dining table he’d just been sat before. The money seemed the gleam beneath a yellowed spotlight. His hands curled to fists at his sides, a low guilt thrumming in his chest at the sight of it -- so pristine. So undeserving of what Muriel was about to put it through.

It took an impatient knock on the door to push him into walking over to the table and plucking up the roll of money in delicate hands, careful not to crumple them as he made his way back to the mattress and then back to the door. He tried not to look so dismayed when Ludovico took all of the money in one hand and pressed it all together -- Muriel’s mess of fifties and twenties, and Asra’s crisp collection of hundreds. There was nothing he could do but watch the previously hallowed roll and his mattress money get stuffed into Ludo’s pocket, a slight divot of worry creasing between his brow. 

“You know,” Ludovico started, snapping Muriel from his sorrowful daze, “if you’d just come back, we wouldn't have to do this every two weeks.” 

Muriel didn't say anything back.

“Boss wants you back,” Ludo continued in a sigh. “Obviously, you know better than anyone he gets what he wants -- he’ll keep raising the prices until you can’t pay anymore. Then you’re all his.” 

No response. 

“Honestly, I don’t know why you don’t just take the offer and come back. I mean, you had it easy.” His voice was getting low and oily with sarcasm. Muriel didn't like where he was going. “Boss misses you -- he might be nice if you decide to give in. Maybe he won’t make you wear that stupid collar agai-” 

The door slammed shut -- Muriel had heard enough. His hands were a bit shaky as he did the locks, eyes dark and concentrated as he turned the knobs and clicked in the bolts. He didn't wait to listen to Ludovico’s parting grumble through the door, he just turned and started back into his single roomed apartment, lifting a hand and pushing it through his hair. His breath tumbled past his lips, eyes settling to a close as he tried to push the unsettled nerves away. Inanna had moved up to his side, licking at his fingers and nuzzling against his open palm. 

Payment first, she affirmed in his head, her voice sadder than before. 

Muriel nodded a little, lips curled into a bitter sort of scowl.  
“Yeah,” he muttered. “Payment first.”

~~~

It was Wednesday. The day came rolling around with the same inevitability as usual. Today was his day off. His job on Tuesday was done so poorly that he hadn’t expected to still get a day off, but he was relieved to check his phone that morning and see no new messages, no orders, no demands. His phone screen was blank when he turned it on- something people usually didn’t like to see, but something that he was relieved about. 

His double bed was a mess. It usually was when he woke up from a job- with the blankets wrapped up around him from how he’d rolled about in his sleep and a couple of his excessive cushions having fallen to the floor. Regardless, though, the sun was peeking its head through the gap in his curtains, sending a streaming line of liquid gold pouring into his bedroom, illuminating the messy floor with its gorgeous colour. 

It was about seven that morning. Early summer, late spring. Judging from the pureness of the gold that shined in, the way it glinted against the carpet, it seemed to be a good day. Good weather, anyway, and hopefully it would stay that way. He knew what he wanted to do today, where he wanted to go. He wanted to visit a certain someone.

Pushing up out of bed, Asra stretched his arms over his head until his muscles gave that perfect ache, like even they were greeting him good morning, and his back clicked. He sighed, slumping back, pushing some mass of fluffy white hair from his face and going to his window, tugging the curtains open. His bed was pushed right up beside the wall, tucked into the corner of his room. The bedsheet was a beautiful violet, the blanket that he lay over the top a vibrant mix of colours, blues and blacks and pinks and golds, all kinds of the colours he’d loved in the same intricate pattern as a lot of his things were- the coat he loved to wear that was hung over the back of his drawer, some of his cushions, he’d even debated getting it as a wallpaper for his living room. He fixed his cushions back on the bed, setting them up like a line of defense from the corner of the bed all the way to the edge, some scattered atop of the neatly affixed blanket. He smoothened the sheets out before he began to rummage around for something to wear that day.

He found a pink hawaiian shirt, made of some semi-transparent material, patterned with palm leaves and fruits. He threw it over his arm, shortly followed by some high-waisted ripped black jeans, a pair of boxers, and some socks. He folded his outfit up together and held it to his chest in one hand, starting through to the bathroom. Faust was still resting, her voice had yet to awaken in his mind, and he was sure she’d found somewhere warm in the apartment to do so. She’d either have escaped his notice on the windowsill in the bedroom or she was curled up in his jewellery drawer, guarding his gold and gems.

The bathroom door clicked shut behind him as he strung his clothes to the side, turning the shower on. He brushed his teeth while it warmed up and washed his face to warm himself up a little more. He was curious about what he’d do for breakfast that morning- if he’d go out to get it, cook something here, or if he’d go to find Muriel and offer that they get breakfast together.

He’d see how he felt after his shower, which was a godsend on his aching muscles and sweaty body. He hadn’t showered the night before, too preoccupied with his job and then fixating on getting some damn rest, so yesterday’s sweat from the heat of the south end and the lack of air conditioning in Muriel’s hut was still sticking to his skin. He rinsed it off with the Lord Of Misrule shower cream from Lush, washing through his hair with a mix of sweet-smelling shampoos and conditioners. By the time he left, he smelled like a mix of patchouli, vanilla, cotton candy and some unnameable fruits, drowned out by the other sweet scents. He dried off quickly before he began to dress, wrapping a belt firmly around his waist and tucking the shirt into his pants. He looked in the mirror and combed through his hair, using some face wash for good measure before he left the bathroom, bringing around a sweet scent wherever he went. 

Morning!! Faust’s sweet chirp rang out as a familiar coldness coiled up around his left, Faust slithering her way up his leg and around his chest, resting there to lean up and flicking her tongue against Asra’s cheek, kissing him good morning. He smiled.  
“Good morning, Faust. Did you sleep well?” he pet the top of her head, her little yes spoken with the same enthusiasm as usual. It felt nice to have someone so happy keeping him company. 

“Is there anything specific you want for breakfast today? Ice cream?” he pet the top of her head as he began to his vanity, sitting down and pulling open the jewellery drawer. Inside, sat his gorgeous array of jewels and gems, gold and silver, things collected from years of travelling that he valued very much. He clipped on his gold collar and hooked his favorite necklace over his head- the one with the blue gem and the black string. He then got out some rings, including a heart-shaped emerald ring and a few gold ones with different decorations. He wore a necklace with a snake over it that sat at the top of his chest, hanging a little higher than his blue one.

A few more bangles hooked over his wrist and he was set to go.

Faust seemed to agree on going out for breakfast this morning, so that’s what Asra decided that they should do.

First, though, as Asra wasn’t too hungry yet, he figured that he could go and visit Muriel. He’d invite him out if there was nothing that needed to be done to avoid another incident like yesterday, but he didn’t see any harm in going over. It was only about half an hour to get there.

He grabbed his wallet and phone, then beginning to the door of his pent suite apartment. He didn’t need a big house like he had; he’d be more content with a humble little place to live, somewhere small and self-sustaining, but he liked the view he’d gotten and this place had grown on him. Besides, it was better here when he wanted company. 

The route to the parking lot was familiar- he went down eighteen floors in an elevator and began out of the back entrance, nodding to the girl behind the desk. She hadn’t been working long, but she was sweet and he tried to start a conversation with her every time he came in or left, provided that there weren’t more important things to get done. 

He got into the same car as last time, the purple jeep, so Muriel would know that it was him, and he began down the same path he’d taken the other day. Faust settled herself on the wheel, curling up around it to sit in the sun, and Asra let her rest there while he drove. The half an hour that it took was a nice little escape from everything. With pop music playing from his car radio, the windows rolled down, and a smile on his lips, he took that route through to Muriel’s area. It was a mess of dirt roads and staring strangers before Asra got to Muriel’s, slowly coming to a stop outside of his garage, rolling up the windows and letting Faust curl back up around his arm before he got out of the car. The door was open, meaning Muriel was likely in, so he left his car pulled up on the curb and began to the shop.

“Good morning, Muriel!” he called as he came in, hoping to get him out from wherever he may have been tucked away. “It’s nice weather out, too good of a day to be cooped up in here.”

Inanna got to him before Muriel had even lifted his head out from the car hood he was working in. She bounded forwards, yellow-green eyes wide as she sniffed the air — smelling the familiar scents of that white haired stranger. With a low whine, she made her way up to him, stopping him in his tracks to sniff and lick at his ankles. She only stopped when Muriel had called her name, leaning up out of the car he’d been working on, brow furrowed with what had to be full blow confusion as his gaze landed on Asra. 

“A… Asra?” Muriel nearly spluttered. He started to stand up — a little too fast for a man of his height. The knock of the car hood against his head was harsh, but not as harsh as the embarrassment that flooded his system in the little mistakes wake. He lifted a hand to rub at his head, ducking beneath the car hood and rounding around it. For Muriel’s sake, Asra put in effort not to laugh.

His face was marked with smears of car grease, and his hair was still pulled up — he hadn’t expected any visitors. Blushing, Muriel pulled out the band from his hair and slipped it around his wrist, flicking his stare to the floor as he stopped and leaned against the car he’d been working on. It was that Honda Civic. The man never showed up for it, so Muriel figured he’d take it apart for parts and scrap like Asra suggested. He felt bad doing it, of course, but the six hundred dollar payment from the night before was a wake up call. Money was money and car parts could be sold. 

“What are you doing here?” Muriel asked, still rubbing his head. The shop was hot that day — the sweat stains of his grey tee shirt were horrendous, really. His forehead glistened, as did the visible muscles of his arms and back. He blushed again, hoping Asra would blame his flush on the heat, and shook his head a little. “Is your car okay?”

A little disappointed he didn’t get to pet Inanna, Asra decided to come toward Muriel, deciding for both of their sakes that he was going to ignore the state that Muriel was in. Hearing his voice was nice, though, and hearing that it lacked the tremor that had plagued him the last time they’d spoken was even better. It was good to know that his use of slight force the other day hadn’t scared Muriel off or made the man anxious about him.

“The car’s fine,” Asra said with a little smile. “I just wanted to come and see you. After the other day, I figured that we could talk under less stressful circumstances.” He glanced at the car, a little sense of pride rushing through him as the next question rolled off his tongue. “He didn’t come to collect his car?”

Of course he didn’t. Asra could still remember the bullet he put in the man’s brain, the way the blood splattered against the wall behind him, and the satisfaction of such an act was still running through his system. Some little hint of pleasure knowing that he’d done something that had helped Muriel. And knowing that Muriel would be able to save money by taking parts from the car meant that what he’d done had just a little more of a positive impact.

Muriel shook his head a little, looking back to the sad state of the Honda. “No. You must have scared him off,” he said, sighing a little and making his way over to the table so he could wipe off his hands. Muriel frowned a little, and looked back up to Asra, his head cocked. “You… you wanted to come and see me? Why would you want to do that?”

He didn’t know why he was asking. Asra had left him a three-hundred dollar tip. If that was just what he tipped the regular worker, Muriel couldn’t imagine what he tipped someone he actually liked. 

The thought reminded him, however…

“Why did you give me so much money?” Muriel blurted before Asra could answer the first series of bitter questions. 

“Like I said, a lot of people where I’m from would have charged me hundreds for the same treatment.” His shoulders raised and slumped a little, as if the answer was obvious, as if Muriel should have known. “So I didn’t see any harm in giving you money that I thought you’d use.”

He knelt down, thankful that he’d chosen to wore black jeans so that they wouldn’t get dirtied, tapping the floor for Inanna to come over, beginning to scratch behind her ear when she’d approached.  
“If you’ve spent it then that’s great, but if you haven't, I'm not going to take it back in case that’s what you want. You deserved the money.”

Muriel couldn’t help but scoff, the sarcastic huff of laughter attracting a cocked brow from Asra, but he didn’t comment any more than he had to. 

Asra got back to his feet then, looking up at Muriel, always finding it a little surprising to see the height difference between them. Even if he worked with someone taller than him, like Julian who was over six foot, it didn’t make it any less shocking to see Muriel standing at his full height.  
“I wanted to invite you out.” He figured it would be better to change the conversation before Muriel did that for him. “To eat. I haven’t had breakfast yet and I know a few places near the edge of the city that make delicious breakfasts. Do you want to come?”

Muriel blinked. “You want what?” he asked, nearly dumbfounded as he stared down at the smiling Asra. Inanna seemed overjoyed at the idea, of course, letting out a huff and trotting over to Muriel’s side, giving his hand a nudge with her snout and an encouraging lick — but Muriel could barely even feel her there. 

“Go out? To eat breakfast?” It was like he’d never heard of it before. Of course, he had heard of it — diners and restaurants for breakfast — but it wasn’t like he’d ever had the pleasure of eating at one. Maybe once when he was a small child but… that seemed so impossibly long ago. “I… I don’t have any money for that. I- I do but not for that.” 

He shook his head a little, face too hot for his liking. It wasn’t just the idea of going out to eat that stumped him — it was the idea that Asra had taken time out of his day to drive to South End and ask Muriel to join him. Did he enjoy his gruff company so much? Muriel didn’t know what answer to that question unsettled him more…

“I don’t have anything to wear, anyways,” Muriel finally blurted, shaking his head. He didn’t want to go. No, he… he did want to go, somewhere deep down, beneath the overthinking and denial — but that was a place he buried and stifled years ago. A place kept under heavy lock and key. So he shook his head again, closing his eyes. “You wouldn’t want me to go. I’m not… you just wouldn’t want me to go.”

“Hm? So I came here because I wouldn’t want you to go?” asked Asra, his tone laced with amusement as he looked up at Muriel. “I’m paying, and it doesn’t matter what you wear. I’ll only be taking you away from your work for a little while, just about an hour and a half.”

He found it cute how quick Muriel was to shoot his idea down. Worrying, yes, but it had some sort of endearing quality to it. He wanted to take Muriel out just for a little while to give him something good to do. He wanted to get him something nice to eat.  
“It’ll be on me. I still feel bad about what happened the other day anyway, so it would be nice to get you away from here for a little bit. The area is quiet, too, and I’ve only ever seen a few people in there at once. Nobody will notice you, trust me, and it’ll be nice and quiet. I’ve taken as many precautions as I could.”

He delicately moved his hand to settle on Muriel’s bicep, looking up at him.  
“I promise, you don’t have anything to worry about. Nothing will happen.” His smile was sincere- he really hoped that Muriel would agree to come with him. He’d expected it to be difficult to convince him but even he didn’t think it would be this hard.

“I won’t be stealing you away for too long. I don’t have work today, I wanted to do something with you.”

Muriel scrambled for something to argue with, all while Inanna teasingly nudged at his hand with her snout. He could feel the very present contact of Asra’s hand on his arm, the touch instinctively making his shoulders draw up a bit and his posture straighten. Of course he was never any good with touches, but Asra’s was something entirely different than most. Asra’s hand was tinier than his, clean and manicured. Well taken care of. Just like his money, it felt so much more… pristeen against his arm than any other hand could feel. 

And he felt just as undeserving of it as he did those three hundred dollars. 

“We don’t even know each other,” Muriel said weakly in his last defense, shaking his head. “Why should I trust you? Why should you trust me?” 

“If we don’t get to know each other, how can we learn to trust each other?” Asra asked, frowning a little, looking up at Muriel. “Come on. If you’re uncomfortable I’ll turn around and come right back to drop you off, no harm done. I promise.”

He pulled his hand back, only to curl his fingers and extend his pinkie, holding it out to Muriel. It was a childish little thing, but a smile curled onto his lips and a light blush onto his cheek  
“Pinkie promise?”

Muriel furrowed his brow, cocking his head to the side -- confused stare focused on Asra’s extended pinkie before dragging up to meet Asra’s smiling face and twinkling eyes.  
“What?” he asked, skeptically. “What do… what do you want me to do?” 

“What? Haven’t you done a pinkie promise before?” he asked, frowning. Muriel shook his head. “You curl your pinkie finger around mine and I curl mine around yours and it seals the promise. It’s like a handshake but, you know, it involves less contact and it’s cuter.”

Muriel scrunched up his nose a little. “That doesn’t make sense,” he muttered. “Shaking… pinkies- it doesn’t promise anything.” 

He watched Asra slump his shoulders a little bit, a teasing impatience misting in his eyes and curling in his smile. Muriel let a small but relatively heavy silence pass, before uttering a long, loud sigh. He raised up his hand, curling his fingers and extending his pinkie. His eyes flicked to the floor, features reddening as Asra’s smile brightened in his peripheral. Like the day before, the touch of Asra’s hand against his own was warmer than it should have been. Even in the heat of the sweltering summer air, a cozy warmth seemed to seep into Muriel’s skin where their pinkies linked together. He tried to ignore it, and then he tried to ignore the slight curiosity -- the little voice in his head asking if Asra might have felt the same. They shook on it, and Muriel took his hand back, sighing loudly as he let it fall by his side. 

“At least let me change my shirt,” he grumbled, shaking his head some. “I have some here whenever I sleep here. Just… wait a second, I guess.” 

Without another word and without waiting for Asra’s input, he turned, an excited Inanna on his heels. 

Still beaming, Asra stopped Muriel from going too far.  
“Wait! Faust wants to shake on it too,” he said, holding out his hand, which Faust was still coiled up around. She had her tail pointed at Muriel, evidently wanting to pinkie promise with her tail. “You can’t leave her waiting, she’s very excited.”

Muriel gave Asra a long stare, before looking down to the snake coiled round his hand. “But she doesn’t have a pinkie,” he murmured, cocking his head again. He lifted his hand again, nonetheless, and held out his pinkie, watching as she lifted the back of her tail and curled it around his fingers. They shook, and Faust took her tail away, Muriel’s confused eyes focused down upon his pinkie again. 

Finally seeming satisfied, Asra pulled back and tucked Faust back into the breast pocket of his shirt, starting to the car. “I’ll turn the car around and wait out here for you, okay?” But Muriel had already gotten inside, so Asra got into his car and closed the door behind him, pulling onto the driveway to turn the car around. He was excited- he didn’t normally get to spend time with people he didn’t work with, and having Muriel trust him enough to accept his offer was a surprising step that he hadn’t expected him to take.

So, pulling up in front of Muriel’s shop, now ready to start en-route to the cafe he knew, Asra waited. He hadn’t been this excited for something in a while. He flicked through a couple of radio stations and found some 80’s playing station that he hoped Muriel would like, not sure if pop would really be his preference.

Muriel switched out his sweaty grey shirt for a clean black one, stuffed into one of the drawers of that makeshift desk of his. He wiped his face clean by the old sink, and brushed his fingers through his tangled hair, eyes flicking down to the band on his wrist for the slightest of seconds before shooting down the idea the instant after. Muriel shook his head, and turned to look at Inanna, wondering if he should have brought her along. 

She seemed to hear his thoughts.  
I’m coming. 

He shrugged. “Just don’t scratch his seats,” he warned quietly, making his way towards the garage door and turning the sign around to closed. “That car costs more than our apartment.”

Inanna trailed on his heels as he stepped out of the shop, pulling the garage door down to a close and locking it up with the chain and padlock before turning to find Asra’s Jeep. The magenta was hard to miss of course, as was the handsome build of such a vehicle. He ducked his head and tried to stifle his growing excitement that brewed up in his stomach at the idea of riding in the Jeep he’d been damn near drooling over the other day. Four doors, high wheels, high ceilings, spacious. Muriel didn't even think he would have to duck his head, curious eyes scanning its interior as he made his way towards the back seat -- opening up the door so Inanna could get in. Luckily, Asra had seat covers, so her claws wouldn't do any damage to the leather. 

“It’s okay if she comes… right?” Muriel asked, hesitantly pushing the back door to a close. He started to his seat, hoping Asra would say yes as he pulled open the passenger door. The sharp scent of a new car met him in a fresh breath of air as he leaned into it, impressed eyes wide as he trailed them along the spacious footwell and the fine stitching of the leather seats. He was slow to get in, savoring it -- but when he did he seemed to melt back into the comfortable seat. “I don’t like to go anywhere without her.” 

“It’s fine, the cafe lets familiars in,” Asra said as he started down the road, the rumbling of the engine as soothing as ever. The windows were rolled down and he turned the volume of the radio down so he wouldn’t risk overwhelming Muriel. “She can stay. And I’m friends with the owner, either way. Selasi is sweet- you’d love him.”

He glanced back at Inanna, feeling Faust beginning to curl around his arm as she snuck out of his pocket, joining Inanna in the backseat with a few happy chirps echoing around his head.  
“How long have you been working here?” he asked, deciding that it would be good to get to know Muriel a little better, and if he got some questions back they could start to get to know each other properly. He liked talking to Muriel. As rarely as he spoke, he liked hearing his voice.

Muriel hadn’t bothered telling Asra that Inanna hadn’t been his familiar, but he realized he wouldn't be able to avoid much conversation after Asra’s little question. He leaned back -- away from the window, away from the wind that had begun to wind through his hair -- and turned to face Asra, frowning a little. There was a moment or so of thought, and then Muriel shrugged. 

“A long time,” he said gruffly, turning back to face forwards. There was a long lapse of silence, silence Muriel knew he had the responsibility of filling. He only did so out of guilt and obligation, really, voice low and awkward when he spoke. “What… what do you do?” 

“Ah, my work takes me everywhere and makes me do everything. I never just have one thing to do and I never just have one place to be. It would take too long to explain every little part of it,” Asra dodged the question entirely, possibly giving the vaguest answer he could give. “Have you always lived out here?”

He did feel a little bad about not telling Muriel the truth about his work. He couldn’t, though- it wasn’t like he could casually slide into the conversation that he was a mafia hitman and drug lord who did whatever his idiot boss told him to do. Even if he did want to tell him, even if he was able to, it definitely wouldn’t get a positive response. Muriel would probably leave and refuse to see him again knowing what he’d done.

“You seem to be pretty used to the area. Or have you just always lived in risky areas?”

Muriel’s eyes stayed focused on the road before them, tactically watching out for potholes. He didn't like where Asra was steering the conversation -- that or he just didn't like the conversation anyways. Muriel ignored his discomfort for the sake of the ride, enjoying the smoothness of the drive and the way the brakes didn't squeak when Asra pressed down on them. 

“I’m just used to it,” he said, deciding to keep it vague. There would be no delving into his life on the street and certainly no mention of getting kicked out from his parents house. Vague and gruff -- he figured that was his tactic as he shimmied his shoulders back into Asra’s comfortable leather seat. He turned his head around to watch Inanna, who had been leaning out of the back window, having the time of her life as it seemed. 

That would be a good way to turn the topics around…

“Inanna’s from here,” he said, nodding at her. “Illegal animal trade on the red market… something like that. I found her just after I moved here from…” he hesitated, and then shook his head -- letting the sentence fall awkwardly flat. He quickly scanned the car again for something to bring up. “Your snake. Faust. Where’s she from?”

“I’m not sure,” Asra said, a little smile on his lips. “I’ve had her since she was young. My earliest memory with her is having her as an egg- I’ve looked after her so long. My parents had snake familiars, too, so she was easy to take care of with their help.” He looked in Muriel’s direction, smiling a little more before focusing back on the road. It wouldn’t be too long before they got there, but they’d have a while to talk. He was looking forward to it- he wanted to know Muriel.

“Inanna’s pretty lucky to have someone like you, isn’t she? A lot of people wouldn’t look after her so well.” Especially if she’d come from the red market- any kind of person could have collected her, but none would have been even remotely as nice as Muriel seemed to be.

Muriel’s face went a little red, but he turned his head so Asra couldn’t see.  
“I guess so,” he mumbled, swallowing hard -- watching the grey houses of South End roll past them. He usually never ventured that far out, they were nearing the edges of that particular part of Vesuvia. 

Soon the old houses and crumbling apartment buildings would change. The ratty, yellow grassed lawns and the shifty eyed scowls from any pedestrians they would rumble past. The nervous children cooped inside of their house, afraid to venture out and get pick-pocketed or mugged. The look of the cars, the look of the shops, the look of the roads and even the sidewalks. No weeds growing from splintered cracks across the pavement, nor potholes as big as Muriel’s boot to shred one’s tire on. Yes… everything would change in just a few more miles…

And Muriel watched it all change with rounded, stupefied eyes.

He hadn’t been out of South End in an impossibly long time -- he almost forgot what it was like. There had been a barren road of sorts, surrounded by the cluttered woodlands that separated South End from the other Vesuvian districts, and then they emerged out into what looked to be a suburb of sorts. Large, family houses with their white picket fences and all. Sidewalks made from clean, white paving and glossy green lawns trimmed to the perfect height. Muriel’s brow furrowed, and he leaned back into the car some, ducking his head as they drove past some of the children riding trikes across the sidewalks and their watchful parents trailing beside them. They had to have known his look as well as he knew theirs. Suburbs and South End didn't mix well -- not at all. 

The suburb was a quick drive anyways. A quick drive listening to the quiet thrum of Asra’s radio, and nodding along to the occasional conversation starter Asra would come up with. They wound their way past the turns and the pretty houses and the clean, smiling faces with their bright, handsome cars until they met the main highway. The tall buildings and skyscrapers of Vesuivia’s main city area loomed in the distance, and Asra sped right towards it. All it took was a few minutes on the freeway, a drive beneath the tunnel, and then they were there -- in the midst of the city life. Asra had promised the cafe was closer and less crowded, so Muriel had to guess it lived somewhere on the outskirts. Nowhere near the belly of Vesuvia City, where the skyscrapers climbed their highest and Muriel’s memories brewed their darkest. He just leaned back in his seat and relied on Asra’s promise, eyes flicking along the buildings they rolled past. 

“I used to live here,” Muriel said -- seemingly out of nowhere after another prolonged silence. He didn't know what caused him to admit such a thing. It had been what he was avoiding earlier, the topic he so vaguely danced around. Even Inanna, who had slipped back into the car during the drive through the tunnel, cocker her head at him at the blurt. 

He knew there was no going back, however, when Asra turned his head, curiosity in his eyes. Muriel just had to grit his teeth and continue, cursing himself for whatever mindless instinct had kicked him into speaking. 

“Not here. Just in the city.” Asra nodded, prompting him to say more. Muriel closed his eyes, shrugging his shoulders a bit to make it seem like it hadn’t been that big of a deal. “When I was younger, anyways. I got away as soon as I could. I… don’t like crowds…”

“You don’t like crowds, so you’d rather be unsafe?” Asra asked, frowning a little, as if he couldn’t begin to understand. He was less of an introvert than Muriel, though, and he didn’t mind crowds as much as the next person, but the idea of sacrificing safety for comfort was unimaginable to him. “I live here. In that building, in fact,” he said as he pointed to a tall building near the centre. “I have the pent suite, top floor. It’s nothing like what I’m used to, but it’s a nice place. I’ll invite you in sometime.It’s quiet, because it’s so high. You don’t catch any of the street noise from that distance.”

He flicked the indicator and soon turned down a quieter street, still pretty close to the centre but secluded in its own kind of way.  
“I still can’t quite process what you said. Did you really choose to do that? I mean… it’s not safe where you live.”

Muriel’s jaw muscles pulsed, his teeth gritting behind his frowning lips.  
“It wasn’t safe here for me either,” he said, voice a little tight. “It never was.” 

Asra didn't seem to want to respond to that, but Muriel didn't mind. 

He didn't want to elaborate. 

Luckily, the uncomfortable tension instilled in the wake of Muriel’s bitter muttering was short lived. They reached the cafe in about five or so minutes after that, Asra’s Jeep pulling up in an open parking spot in front of a squat sort of building. It seemed to be the sort of place for a business and a home -- one where the cafe sat in its humble spot on the first floor, while a home of some sort sat upon the next two. Muriel studied it as Asra took the keys from the ignition, furrowing his brow at the collection of hanging flower pots and the hand drawn sign, beautiful calligraphy and all. Asra was right about it being quiet. Most of the parking spots had been vacant, and the crowd activity hadn’t been so heavy there. Just a few kids with chalk and a couple or two holding hands as they walked down the sidewalk, pointing at various things in shop windows. 

It was a nice place. Muriel couldn’t deny it as he unclicked his seatbelt and slipped out of the car -- ducking his head like always as he went. The quaintness of it all, however, made him feel out of place. Especially after he had unloaded his black coated wolf from the back door of Asra’s Jeep.

“You’re sure they won’t mind her?” Muriel asked warily as he stepped onto the sidewalk, wondering if he should have at least brought a leash. 

“Selasi will love her,” he assured Muriel as he slid out the car, falling into line beside Muriel. Faust was getting a lift on Inanna, curled up on her head, her tongue flicking happily. Asra opened the door when they approached, already noticing the way that the kids stared up at Muriel when he passed but choosing to ignore it, as he was sure Muriel was doing. He walked inside, then turning and warning Muriel about the low door frame to urge him to be careful when entering.

“Asra!” came a happy voice from inside, catching the magicians attention as he turned and faced Selasi, who was coming out from behind the counter with freshly cooked rolls. “My favourite customer, and you’ve brought a friend with you! Come, come, I’ll let you have one of these rolls while they’re still warm. You can give your friend one, too!”

Grinning just a little wider, Asra began to the counter and took the two rolls he was being offered. He held one out to Muriel.  
“Take it,” he urged before the offer could be refused. “It’s really good. I’m not sure how Selasi does it, but something about it is delicious. Better than any other bread you can get.” He turned back to the counter. “Thank you, Selasi! This is Muriel, we met a couple of days ago. He doesn’t like loud places or people so this seemed to be the best place to come.”

Selasi, the baker, smiled a little more.  
“You’re always welcome here, no matter how many friends you bring! So long as that blond one keeps away, we won’t be having any problems.”  
“Oh, you know him, he won’t be coming back any time after last week’s incident. I’m glad, too- gets him off my back for a bit.”

Asra turned back to Muriel, still holding out the bread roll for him.  
“You can choose somewhere to sit, I’ll be right over.”

Muriel, a bit dumbfounded at the interaction before him, reached for the bread roll and took it carefully into his hand. Selasi was right -- they were still warm. Comfortable against his clammy hands, and down right heavenly when it came to the smell. Muriel’s stomach turned, mouth already watering from the smell of bread that had hit him the moment he stepped into the little cafe. 

Inanna tipped her head up at his side, snout snuffling for his piece of bread. He pulled it away from her, frowning a little as he turned and looked for a seat -- not bothering to try and respond to Selasi. He started towards a booth seat by the back, flicking a glance back at Asra and his baker friend, trying not to wonder what they had been talking about. He slid into the booth, the table awkwardly touching his knees, and Inanna hopped into the empty space beside him -- still trying to get a good sniff or even a bite of Muriel’s food. He frowned at her, but ripped off a piece anyways, feeding her the bite before he could even take one himself. 

Asra came over a few moments later, having just been talking to Selasi about how to make Muriel feel more at ease, sitting down opposite him. He’d already eaten most of his bread roll and, with Faust sitting on his shoulder, he made sure to feed her some to keep her entertained.  
“What do you think of this place?” he asked Muriel, glancing about. “There’s one other person here, and then there’s Selasi. I told you this place would be quiet. And it’s pretty well funded- people don’t come in often, but this place hasn’t moved in the last thirty years, when his parents worked here, so it’s pretty unlikely that this place will be shut down. It’s nice here- I hope that you like it here.”

Muriel shrugged, casting a cursory glance around the little building. Everything seemed… gentle. From the cream color of the walls to the chalkboard menu above the desk to the little smiley face drawn upon the post-it note stuck to the tip jar. He liked it a lot, despite how oddly he seemed to stick out among it all. The room was quiet, but not like the uncomfortable silence that seemed to usually hang around him as if it had been a stormcloud of sorts. It was filled with the white noises of working kitchen machinery and the low hum of music through the lowered speakers.

“It’s alright,” he said, turning back to his bread roll. “No place someone like me belongs but… it’s alright.” 

He took his first bite so Asra didn't have a chance to comment or ask him what he meant, gaze down on the table. A burst of flavor met his taste buds: the sweetness of bread mixed with the spice of cinnamon, all rounded together with the perfect amount of pumpkin that simply melted in Muriel’s mouth. His eyes had widened, going round as he sat up a little in his seat, looking at the little piece of bread with a sort of childish amazement. How so much could be packed into one bite… he couldn’t tell. All he knew was that he wanted another one. 

Muriel didn't know he’d been smiling until he caught a glimpse of Asra’s face. 

He forced the smile away, turning his head so he face Inanna, ignoring the creeping blush of his cheeks. He began to riper her off another piece to keep himself busy -- to keep himself from reacting to the little laugh Asra chuckled out across the table. 

“I’ll take it that you like the bread,” Asra said with a quirk to his lips, finding it cute yet again. Something about Muriel was unmistakably endearing, and he couldn’t quite place what it was until he saw the softness and hesitance of his smile. 

He tore some of his bread off and brought it to his lips, smiling as he placed it into his mouth, letting the flavours melt in his mouth.  
“When you finish that, you can have the rest of my roll if you want. I come here so often that these rolls are just part of my daily diet. Selasi always leaves whatever doesn’t get sold and comes to give them to me every other day.” 

Holding out his hand, offering Muriel the other half of his roll, Asra collected the menu from the rack at the end of the table. He slid one to Muriel and then held one himself, beginning to skim over the options he had.  
“You can choose anything you want,” he said softly. “I’ll pay, it’s nothing at all.”

Muriel looked at him, two of those delicious bread rolls now in hand.  
“This… this wasn’t breakfast?” he asked, flicking his eyes down to the rolls. Inanna whined at his side, licking her chops. He began ripping her another piece, looking back to the laminated menu Asra had pushed in front of him. “We’re supposed to get more food?” 

Laughing softly, naturally assuming that the comment was a joke, Asra shook his head.  
“No, of course this wasn’t breakfast! There’s so much more here.” He looked up at Muriel, offering him a sweet smile. “I’m treating you. You think I’d give you three hundred bucks and then skip out on giving you a proper breakfast?” He slid the menu closer to Muriel.

Muriel didn't respond -- he just gave Asra another look before hesitantly returning to the menu. He took another bite of bread as he skimmed through the list of breakfast foods before him, eyes wide at all the possibilities. If he was being honest, he could have just had another piece of bread or so, and he would be just fine -- he didn't need any sorts of big plates or magnificent meals. He wasn’t even sure if his stomach could take so much after living years on the bare minimum of a person his size. However, Muriel didn't object to Asra’s kindness. Either he felt guilty at the idea of rejecting it, or he didn't want Asra chastising him for it. 

He did keep a close eye on the prices, though. 

After a while of searching and a slightly panicked dilemma, Muriel turned his menu around, and pointed to the item of his choosing.  
“Just the bacon and eggs would be fine,” he mumbled, leaning back in his seat. His knees bumped the table, resulting in a smirk from Asra and a blush from himself. “Maybe coffee. And… maybe more of this bread…” 

“That’ll be fine,” Asra said with a smile, beginning to get to his feet. “I’ll go and order that, then I’ll come back and sit with you while we wait.”

He moved out of the little booth, ordering Muriel’s request and a sharing portion of bread before asking for his pancakes, with ice cream, syrup, and an array of fruits on the side for him to add in as he liked. After a short discussion with Selasi, mostly focused on Muriel (it wasn’t often that Asra brought in someone totally new), he returned to his seat. Faust was sitting on the table, munching on the bread roll that Asra had left, and he pet her scaly back as he sat down.

“It shouldn’t be long,” he promised Muriel, looking up at him. “Are you feeling alright? This isn’t too much, is it?”

Muriel shrugged. “It’s fine,” he said in a mumble. 

To be completely honest, he wasn't quite sure if it had all been too much or not. He liked that the building was relatively empty, obviously, and he liked how quiet it was. But there was that same bugging little voice that told him it was just like that money on his kitchen table from the night before -- too good for him to touch. He wasn’t the kind of person who belonged in cream colored cafes with pumpkin bread, just like he wasn’t the kind of person who deserved to be spoiled by Asra and his seemingly bottomless pockets. He supposed the grumbled it’s fine had been a half-lie of sorts… but it didn't matter. It wasn’t like he would have admitted to the full truth anyways. 

Again, he wanted to change the subject. Muriel chose the first topic that came to his mind.  
“The tire. On your car. Is it alright?” 

Asra frowned a little.  
“What? The one you fixed? No, it’s been fine. I’m fine.” He leant on his hand , leaning a little closer to Muriel curiously. He still pet Faust with his other hand, her tail curling around his fingers every so often. “It’s better now, even. I don’t know how you do it but the car seems to run a lot smoother now as a whole.”

He could tell that Muriel was out of his element, and he knew he’d pushed him out of his comfort zone, but that didn’t mean he expected Muriel to fill every silent moment with a desperate grasp for conversation. He would have brought it up if there was an issue, surely.  
“You don’t need to worry so much about these things, Muriel. There’s no problem.”

Muriel blushed, turning his head to the side -- looking at Inanna as if she was his sort of escape from the conversational awkwardness he always seemed to push into any interaction.  
“Yeah,” he said, nodding his head. He didn't know why he was agreeing. He hadn’t been worried about Asra’s tire at all -- he knew he had done a good job at it. The only thing he’d been worried about was steering the conversation from his own discomfort… but somehow it had come right back to that again. “Sure.” 

They sank into another dead silence. One Muriel felt guilty about, but one he wouldn't dare to revive. He reached his hand down and rubbed behind Inanna’s ear -- her head laid sleepily on his leg so the action was hidden from Asra by the table. He continued to nibble on what was left of his bread, afraid of ruining his appetite and wasting Asra’s money. Of course, he was hungry enough to eat it all, but that didn't stop him from worrying. He’d wasted enough of Asra’s money. And Asra’s time. And Asra’s company…

Luckily, the arrival of their food stopped those thoughts cold. Muriel’s stomach twisted at the smoky scent of bacon -- even Inanna had leaned up, sniffing the air at the scent of cooked meat. A rare delicacy in the midst of meals consisting of the best dog food Muriel could afford. She licked her chops and sat up straight beside Muriel, watching his plate closely as it was set down before him. He promised her that he’d give her a piece once it cooled down -- speaking in a low mumble so Asra couldn’t hear him. 

Asra smiled, looking fondly over at Muriel.  
“Bon appetit,” he said warmly, picking up his cutlery and starting to cut into his stack of pancakes. “Do you want to try some of mine? It’s really good- Selasi just has a way with food.”

Muriel shook his head a little, eyes trained upon his own plate before him. His mouth watered just at the very sight of the crispy bacon and steaming eggs, topped with flecks of red spices and pepper. Asra didn't even have to tell him -- it was obvious how good Selasi was just from the look of his plate.

And, perfectly on time, Selasi came through with a bowl in each hand. There a dog bowl in his left, a long tray with two sections. One half had water with ice cubes in, and the other half had dog food, topped off with an egg cut into sections and a few bacon slices, as if that was his way of preventing her from stealing away Muriel’s food from his plate. His right hand held a smaller bowl, one with ‘Faust’ written on it, that he set down by the snake. It was a mix of things for the omnivorous serpent, who chirped her thanks into Asra’s head (which he happily repeated) before she began to eat.

“Is she alright to be pet?” asked Selasi, a quirk in his voice that Asra still couldn’t place after all the years of knowing him, though he was sure that it was hard to identify his hinted accented by this point too. “She looks like a sweetheart- Asra told me that I could bring something out for her to eat.”

Muriel’s snapped from his hungry daze once he realized Selasi had been speaking to him, looking up from his plate and to the cafe owner, and then to the wolf sitting patiently at his side, her wide green eyes focused on the dog bowl in Selasi’s hand. 

“Uh… sure,” Muriel said, even though he didn't quite know the answer. He lifted his hand though, holding it out for the dog bowl. “But I should probably give her that. She might… snap.” 

I would not!

Muriel shot her a narrowed eyed, skeptical sort of look, and then turned back to Selasi, taking the dog bowl from him and carefully setting it on the table before the eager wolf. She leaned over and ate without a second’s hesitation, scarfing down the bacon and eggs in an instant before leaning back to breathe. She turned to Selasi, and then to Muriel, forcing more of that magical thought into his head before ducking back into the food bowl. 

Tell him thanks.

“She… she says thank you,” Muriel mumbled, watching Inanna feast. “You can pet her now… but be careful.”

Selasi moved his hand to scratch cautiously behind her ear, smiling fondly at her.  
“She’s very soft,” he said as he ran his fingers through her fur, soon pulling his hand back and nodding a little. “Thank you. I’ll let you two enjoy your meal now- and if you need anything, just call. Alright?”

Asra called goodbye to Selasi as he left, his focus fixing back on Muriel momentarily. He’d already begun eating and had a mouthful of pancakes only a moment after Selasi had left. He always forgot how good these things were- he hadn’t been here since the week before. Judging by the look on Muriel’s face, though, seeing how good this food looked and being able to smell the mix of perfect smells must have been so unfamiliar to him. It was nice to see him somewhere like here, where he could eat properly and eat well. He didn’t know what Muriel normally ate, but judging by how poorly he seemed to live and how little money he had, added to the shine in his eyes, he could imagine that it wasn’t anything good.

Muriel hadn’t noticed Asra’s staring -- he was too preoccupied with the plate of food before him. Not having to worry about Inanna meant it was all his. Both pieces of eggs, all six pieces of bacon, and whatever pieces he wanted from that basket of bread in the middle of the table. All his. It was an odd thought. An odd concept. He shrugged it off, however, eagerly grabbing the first piece of bacon. Inanna told him it was good before he took his bite, and he told her to stop using up his magic (not out loud of course -- he wouldn't want Asra to know how limited his power was). He just shot her a glance, and narrowed his eyes a little, but she only responded with a huff before she turned back to her own nearly empty bowl, leaving Muriel to his breakfast. 

It was good. After cheap meals and cheap take-out, freshly cooked bacon and home scrambled eggs was nearly sublime to the tastebuds. The extra pieces of bread on top made everything that much better, too. He ducked his head to keep Asra from spotting that same smile from before, long hair obscuring his features as it swept across his forehead. Asra didn't try to start any more conversations, but that was okay -- Muriel had been too invested in his meal for talking, really. He figured Asra was too. Those pancakes did smell good…

When there was only a couple of pancakes left, Asra cut out a small section and added some fruit and syrup to it. He reached over a little, gently nudging Muriel’s hand to get his attention.  
“Are you sure you don’t want some of these?” he asked again, a little purr on his tongue at the offer. “I’ve only got a couple of pieces left, I figured that I might as well offer before I run out.”

He held the piece out on his fork, holding it close to Muriel as an open invitation for him to take it.  
“Take it if you want it.” He reached up, gently brushing some of Muriel’s hair from his face so that it wouldn’t get in the way if he tried to eat it. “And you won’t need to give me any of your breakfast in return, either.” He didn’t seem to mind that Muriel’s hair was a little greasy, or that Muriel’s face lit up red at the littlest touch. 

It was as if Muriel’s world had stopped. The flush he felt when Asra had touched his hand was one thing, but to reach up and brush his hair from his face? To let his fingertips grace against his forehead like that? To look at him with those narrowed eyes and speak to him with that low tone? It was almost cruel. Especially after that smile he gave when he saw Muriel’s expression. 

His eyes were wide, his face so hot it was as if he was feverish. He made the mistake of making eye contact with Asra -- if the touches hadn’t killed him, Asra’s confident stare back certainly had. It took a full minute for his mind to kick back into gear. Nearly a full minute after his breath hitched and his face went numb. Nearly a minute of spluttering and shaking his head before his eyes sank down to the bite of pancake. 

Take it! Inanna said, her magical voice almost sounding annoyed in his head.

Muriel nodded his head, eyes flicking back up to Asra’s. He seemed to flush even more.  
“S… sure- I guess,” he stuttered, swallowing hard. He leaned up a bit, pulling away from Asra’s hand and tucking his hair behind his ear himself. The ghost of Asra’s touch was still warm against his skin, even past the heat of his blush. 

Asra took a moment or so to recover from seeing the deep flush on Muriel’s features before he pushed the pancake over to him a little more, urging him to either take the fork or bite the pancake right off of it, keeping his eyes on Muriel.

Honestly, he’d never felt happier to have invited anyone out before. Seeing Muriel sitting opposite him, eating a full meal and blushing so dark was sweet. He hated being alone, he never made much of an effort to hide it, but it meant that he was drawn to people quickly, that he was too eager to see the good in people to care about what the bad could be. He was too eager to get to know Muriel better to worry about what kind of person he could possibly be.

But then he’d look at Muriel and realise that there wasn’t even the possibility that he could have been anything but the gentle soul he seemed to be.

Muriel closed his eyes, offering a low, embarrassed sigh, before leaning forwards and taking that bite off of Asra’s fork. It tasted good -- delicious, really. Sweet and savory on the taste buds, leaving him craving a second bite. But he couldn’t quite enjoy it all that much as he leaned back, pouting a little, ignoring the smug huff from Inanna at his side. Muriel brought a hand to his mouth, pressing his knuckles into his lips for a second as the situation processed, and then reaching that hand up to fix his hair back over his face. 

“Thanks… I guess…” he mumbled, leaning back in his seat. He was about done with his own plate -- just a few bites of eggs left and some crumbles of bacon he wouldn't mind giving to Inanna. Muriel looked up from his plate and eyed the little basket of bread on the table, noting the three or four pieces left for the taking. He pointed at it, still a little red in the face. “Do you think we could… take those as leftovers?” 

“Of course,” Asra nodded, moving to get to his feet, calling over Selasi and asking for a doggy bag for Muriel’s leftovers. He came over after a few moments as promised, handing them both takeout boxes for them to bring back their food in.

They didn’t chatter too much that time, though Selasi left a few dog treats for Muriel to give Inanna before he disappeared back behind the kitchen. Still smiling, Asra pushed the box and the rolls toward Muriel.  
“Are you feeling better now?” he asked, still smiling fondly at Muriel. “I can take you back now, if you want, or we could visit a few more quiet places?”

Muriel, despite the slight flush of excitement at the question, shrugged his shoulders up high and shook his head as he piled the rest of those rolls into that little to-go box. “I… I don’t think... You can just take me home. To the shop,” Muriel said, ignoring the huff from Inanna. He elbowed her, shooting her a narrowed eyed glance, to which she just replied with a snorting type of sneeze. 

Box and bread in hand, he began to scoot out from the table, banging his knees against the surface of it again. Inanna followed, standing by his heels as he waited for Asra join him at his side. He forcefully ignored the wide eyed stares from the customers across the room -- the ones who had just walked in and hadn’t seen his full height earlier. Muriel just ducked his head, hair falling across his face. 

“Sorry. I would go with you... ” he trailed off, his guilt twisting in his chest at the half lie. Muriel’s mind went back to the six-hundred dollars he lost from the night before -- along with Ludovico’s promises. “But I need to go back to the shop. I can’t afford a day off.” 

He certainly couldn’t. That was one of many reasons he decided to let Asra down again, but that was the big one. Muriel had to finish taking apart that car, he had to wait patiently for any customers, he had to call the guy he worked for on weekends and ask for any extra hours. As nice as breakfast was, and as fast as Asra made Muriel’s heart beat in his chest with all of those stares, he almost couldn’t wait to be alone in his shop again. 

Alone in his shop. Working. Like he always was.

“Alright,” Asra nodded, getting up and scooping up Faust, putting her back around his neck. “Then let's get you home, big guy. If my car doesn’t have any issues, I’ll see you in a week. Wednesdays are my days off, remember?”


	3. A Day In The Life

Unlike the day before, when Asra awoke Thursday morning to his phone alarm chirping out its annoying call, the world outside was grey. 

Considerably so. 

A storm must have rolled in sometime while he was asleep -- which was nothing rare for Vesuvia nor her city, of course, but still disheartening. There were no golden streams of sunlight bleeding through Asra’s bedroom curtains, just a gloomy grey from the grumbling thunderclouds that mumbled and growled outside with distant thunder. The worst of the storm must have passed the city by then, Asra figured as he pushed up from the mattress with the palms of his hands, the thin sheet slipping from his bare chest as he turned to peek through the gap in his curtains. From the sound of it, the thunder must have headed downwards. South End would be getting the worst of it by then...

For some reason, Asra couldn’t shake the thought of Muriel in his shop. 

“I hope he isn’t afraid of thunder,” he mused aloud, a smirk curling up his cheeks as he lifted his covers and met the tiny, red eyes of Faust curled up at his side. “At least not as afraid as you are.” 

Loud! Faust squeaked in his head, shivering a little beneath Asra’s calming touch when he reached to pet her. 

He smiled a little, using his other hand to finally shut off his chirping alarm. “Don’t worry,” he hummed, scooping her up and letting her slither up and across his shoulders. Faust curled closer, and Asra could already feel her growing a little more comfortable there. “Hopefully it’ll clear up by the time we head out.” 

It… didn't. 

In all the time it took Asra to get ready for the day, for the inevitable meeting he knew he had to catch with his boss, the grey sky had still been grey -- rain soft but still pattering away on the concrete of the roads and sidewalks of the city. It tapped upon the windshield of his Jeep as he drove in the heavy traffic, full of beeping cars and people waiting to get to work. His windshield wipers dragged lazily across the window, sweeping up the pinpricks of rain as they went. Asra watched them idly whenever he was stopped, his thoughts mindlessly wondering if he needed his window cleaner replace… and just who he could go to for such a job…

He shook his head a little, smiling. Why he couldn’t get that car mechanic out of his head was just beyond him. That blush from the morning before was imprinted into his mind -- like the snap of a polaroid picture. A frozen frame of those wide, green eyes. Blush swept across the bridge of his nose, brightening the tips of his ears all the way down to what was visible of his chest and shoulders. It was all so… endearing. 

Crush!

Asra snorted at Faust’s comment, his own cheeks dusting with a soft pink. Again, he shook his head, but that time with a little more conviction. “Not a crush,” he said, smiling in spite of himself. “Just… an interest. He’s an interesting guy. Might even be good for work -- I’m thinking about offering him a job. Think he’ll take it?”

No, was Faust’s reply. She was still curled around the back of his neck, much calmer than she had been that morning. Too soft!

He gave an actual laugh at that, and rolled his eyes a little, easing his foot on the gas pedal when the traffic began to part. “Yeah,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “Yeah, maybe he is.”

The place Asra had to go when he was called into work changed every time -- that was the life of a man in the mafia, he supposed. Some days he was told to visit the obvious spots like clubs or bars around music and dancers and the smell of expensive alcohols. He’d even been instructed to visit alleyways and shady places like South End or worse. But then there were the ‘not-so-cliche’ places, as he liked to call them. Cafes, fancy restaurants, the park, even by the city lake where the swans and ducks skimmed the surface of the water, searching for some tossed bread from pedestrians or old folks sitting on benches with their baskets of bird seed. Asra hadn’t lied when he told Muriel that his job took him everywhere -- it took him to places in and out of the city he never thought he’d go. 

But with every job, there is always a home base. Always an office with a shiny gold name plate one would stared at when called in by their boss. Always the place where the mighty ringleader dwells…

And that place happened to be the most lavishly expensive building in the city. 

Everyone called it the Palace. Really, it was some commercial company for some kind of banking Asra never paid much attention to, but one glance and the passing tourist would never know. It was the tallest building in all of Vesuvia, placed nearly in the center of the city, deep in its bowels where the streets grew nicer and the buildings climbed higher and everything began to develop a shiny gleam to it. Asra supposed he liked it, but he also supposed he didn't. There was a line between lavishness and flashy, and his boss -- the man who owned it all -- had most definitely crossed that line. 

But no one could tell him that. Not Asra, not his coworkers, not the cops and certainly not their very dedicated chief of police. He basically ran the city -- there was nothing that could get to them.

Asra didn't care too much. He hated the guy, of course, but the job was nice. The pay was nicer. The occasional face to face meeting with the mafia’s ringleader was worth the prodded nerves. 

He parked his car across the street from the building, neglecting to use his parking spot in the garage out of pure pettiness alone. Asra stepped out from his car, dressed in flower printed button up and high waisted jeans, sunglasses pushed up on his head despite the gloomy weather, and pushed open his umbrella to protect such an outfit from the sprinkle of rain. Faust cuddled up close to him, clinging close to his collar, chirping something about how it had been cold in his ear. The reminder made him cut a little faster around the street, and into the heated lobby of the Palace. 

From there, it was easy. Security knew him well -- he slipped past them and into the elevator with a smile and a fist bump or two, humming some things about catching up or the usual question regarding their kids. Then it was a ride up to the very top floors, the crowd of the elevator thinning the higher and higher he climbed. By the time he made it to the top floor, the low ding of the thankful elevator thrumming through the speakers as its doors opened up, Asra had been all alone. He started though the well furnished hall and towards the door at the end of it where a man dressed in black stood, arms crossed over his chest as he guarded the door. 

“Brudmila,” Asra quipped as he stopped by the door. He stuck his hands in his pants pockets, cocking his head. “Boss has got you on door duty, huh?” 

The gruff looking guard shrugged his shoulders. “Ludovico’s got the fun stuff this week,” he sighed dismally. Brudmila looked Asra up and down, eyeing his outfit. “Why are you here? You’re early -- I didn't think the meeting was until eleven.” 

Asra smirked. “Early bird gets the raise.” He nodded his head towards the door. “You gonna let me past?” 

“Did you check in with the secretary?” Brudmila asked, as he always did.

“Do I ever?” Asra countered with a wink. 

That was all it took for Brudmilla to sigh and step back, pushing against the door handle until the mechanisms clicked. Asra shot him a smile and patted him twice on the arm as he strolled into the double doors, pushing them both open in his usual fashion. He moved forwards, striding with an unusual confidence and swagger for someone approaching their superior. Asra made his way for the desk, and set both of his hands on it, splaying his fingers as he waited for his undisturbed boss to look up from his computer. 

“Sorry I’m early,” Asra said, leaning forwards a little. “Thought we could get this over with. What’s the reason you called me here, Lucio?”

Lucio, aside from being petty, flashy, and all the aforementioned things, was an arrogant man. Cockier than he deserved to be, richer than a poor man could dream of being, and while he may not have been respected, he certainly wasn’t disrespected. People knew the consequences of that, the consequences of one poorly placed word in his company, of one assumption or snap, of the slightest slip of the shortest tempers.

While Asra was lucky, being a highly valued employee meant that he could get away with sarcastic quips and muttered insults, many others were not. Asra hadn’t had to endure any consequences for his actions because Lucio knew how likely he would be to quit if he was pushed in the wrong direction. When others were forced to work for him, enslaved but with pay, it was different. One slip up could have them lose their position, their pay, and succumb to crippling debt or face whatever was waiting for them outside of those protected door.

Lucio had money. Lucio had power. Lucio had almost a hundred people regarded as ‘higher-ups’, those who were under his immediate control for different crimes in different sectors. Beneath those higher-ups were the inferiors, those with less of a job, those who had to get their hands dirty. Only Lucio knew how many people he had like that, in Vesuvia and offshore. And that was just scratching the surface of it all.

Lucio had influence, everyone knew that.

And currently he sat at his desk, leant back in his almost throne-like chair (an exhibition of his arrogance, yes, but a sign that he leant into the title ‘Palace’ that his building had acquired). He was leant to one side, his head resting on his hand while his gorgeous gauntlet drummed repetitively on the desk before him. There was a series of dents along the desk where his hand was resting, showing that this was something he did regularly. How it didn’t drive Ludovico and Brudmila insane when they stood guard of his room was a mystery.

Why they still worked here was a bigger mystery.

He looked at Asra, a smile on his lips. Was there something amusing about the situation or was he just eager to see him? It wasn’t clear- though Asra often asked himself the same question when he walked in here. He supposed the answer was never going to be clear until Lucio began to speak and assigned him a task.

“My reason?” he echoed, that quirk of his lips only growing. “What is a reason to talk between two friends, hm? Can’t I invite you to my office to talk without a reason?”

This was almost a routine, too. Having to endure Lucio toying with him was just a dull part of his work routine, and it grew more and more irritating with every passing second. And every time, Lucio seemed to enjoy it just a little more. 

“I’ve been noticing that you’ve been in South End a lot lately. You had a job there, didn’t you? I was curious about why you went back. I had a few people in some of the lower ranks say that they say your car around there. It’s striking, really, because that place is so disgusting that I hadn’t expected someone like you to visit. I don’t have many high expectations or standards for you, but South End…” His lips curled into a grimace, disgusted, but he managed to shake the feeling off a moment later. “You know I value honesty here. I just want to know what’s going on with my employees. If Julian ever shut up, I’d ask him similar questions.”

His eyes were shining with amusement, those grey iris’ accented with red sclera and black eyeliner, done in neat and smooth flecks above his eye and along his cheekbone, which was also accented with highlight. Red eyeshadow was dotted about the outer corner of his eyes, though it wasn’t exactly a pleasant combination considering that the reds of his eyes were already overpowering. His blond hair was slicked back, as ever, exposing the earring that hung from his left ear and the various others that curled about the outer shell of his ear. Similar to Asra, he wore a variety of golden jewels, necklaces, whatever, though he wore it for vanity. For status. Asra just thought they looked neat.

“Was there an issue with the deal?” It had almost slipped Asra’s mind that he was being interrogated in the first place, having gotten so preoccupied with his internal critique of Lucio. “I know you were late to the deal, some issue with your car, but what about yesterday?”

Asra made a face, looking Lucio up and down. “Yesterday was my day off,” Asra muttered, leaning up from his desk and standing straight. “What I do on my own time is none of your business, boss.” 

He crossed his arms over his chest and looked away with a roll of his eyes, Lucio’s voice already weaving its way beneath his skin and beneath his nerves. Asra looked across the room, his eyes finding the many items hanging upon the wall they’d always run across when trying to avoid Lucio’s red stare. The paintings of him, the plaques of his achievements, more paintings of him. That odd, long painting of those strange animals -- figures with the heads of dogs and cats and birds all surrounding one of a goat, a table of bountiful food and wine spread before them all. Asra frowned at it, nose wrinkling like always. The only painting he found unnerved him more was the painting of Lucio’s long forgotten mother, tucked in the far corner and never spoken about if the viewer wanted to keep their tongue. 

Lucio had given him a sublime moment of silence, waiting for Asra to take the bait. They both knew Lucio wouldn't stop until he had his answer, and they both knew Asra had to take a moment to get over himself and give it to him. 

“I was just going back to survey the area,” he sighed after a long while, shrugging his shoulders. Asra turned back to Lucio, finally, his features straight and tone completely convincing as he laid out his lie. “South End isn’t… the best place, but a lot of the people there are poor and desperate and already into drugs. Easy place to find new workers. Drug mules, informants, stuff like that. I know that’s more of Ludovico and Bludmilla’s job but… I wanted to take the drive and I wasn’t busy.” 

Why did he lie? The answer was simple, cut and clean. He could see the situation following the truth as though it had simply unfolded before his eyes like a long red carpet -- Asra knew how speaking with Lucio worked. If he told Lucio he took a car mechanic out for breakfast, Lucio could have asked why. He would have asked who the car mechanic was. And then Asra would have to tell him. 

And then Muriel’s name would be on Lucio’s radar. 

For some reason, despite his sly comment about asking Muriel to work for the biggest mob in Vesuvia, the idea of him being on Lucio’s radar was… unsettling. 

The words seemed to need a few moments to settle, as if Lucio was waiting for Asra to take it back, to confess to lying, etcetera. When no further comment was given, he nodded, accepting the answer.  
“I already have a lot of people recruited around there,” he said. “I’m not looking to get any more from that area. Apparently some people around there are thinking of tearing your car apart if you go back. It’s new, shiny, and they think it’d be worth a lot of money.”

Was that a warning or a threat? Even after knowing Lucio this long, so many things were unclear.

“Regardless, I wanted to assign you todays job in person. There’s a lot of chatter amongst the lower levels, threats, conspiration, such like that. I’ll give you the information, addresses, names, and then it’s up to you. Threaten, interrogate, abuse, or kill whoever on this list you choose.” 

A piece of paper slid over the table, about twenty names scribbled out on it in Lucio’s gross handwriting. None of the names were familiar, though, which was good. There was always that risk that someone familiar would appear on that list.

Lucio’s eyes were still fixed on Asra. Shining with curiosity. He liked seeing how Asra reacted- everyone else was predictable, either a yes or a no would leave their lips and it was often followed by ‘boss’ or ‘sir’. Asra was different, that’s why Lucio liked giving him jobs like this. Difficult ones, yes, but ones where he had the option to accept or deny. Ones where he could choose if he was going to go through the extra effort despite the difficulty in order to earn money or not.

“What do you say?”

Asra plucked up the piece of paper, skimming over the list of names a few times. There were about fifteen people on it written in heavy black marker, their addresses scribbled to the very side of their name. Most of them lived in the city area, one or two in the suburbs, likely hiding the mafia occupations from their families, and then about three more lived in South End. Asra found his eyes hovering on those last names, brow furrowing a bit as he cocked his head. 

“I can choose anyone on this list?” he asked, flicking his eyes back up to Lucio. 

“Anyone and any method to deal with them. You can choose how many people you want to deal with, too. Just mark the names you’re doing and I’ll make someone else do the rest.”

Asra shrugged, a slight smile quirking up his lips as he stuffed the list into his pants pocket. “I’ll take it,” he said almost boredly, nodding his head as he took a few steps back from the desk. “If that’s all I might as well get on with it -- I’ll give you back the list when I’m done with my lucky few.” 

He turned around, lifting his hand for a swift, backwards wave as he started for the door -- not waiting for Lucio’s dismissal. Just as Asra reached it, however, his fingertips touching that long, shiny door handle, he straightened up and looked over his shoulder. 

“I wouldn't worry about those people from South End touching my car, boss,” he said, a mischievous glint highlighting his narrowed, foxish eyes. “I know how to handle myself.” 

With that, Asra pulled the door open and left without staying and listening for Lucio’s response. He found those abrupt departures a sort of power move against the one man he technically couldn’t overpower. Lucio always took it the same -- whether it was a narrowed eyed scowl behind Asra’s back or a shrug and an interested turn back to his computer, he always took it the same. 

Asra gave Brudmila two pats on the shoulder as he passed again, calling out that he’d see him later, and how he should tell Ludovico that he said hi. 

Watching Asra leave, Lucio settled back in his chair and picked up another set of documents to flick through, figuring out what jobs he could give to whoever came in next. He was already starting to pick out the worst cases to give a few people he didn’t like much anymore. 

He could already hear footsteps approaching his room, undoubtedly the next person who wanted their job. Routine only bothered him in the mornings- he was going to see two people next before the rest of his day would just be him, a bottle of wine, and so much dirty money.

~~~

Asra didn't show up Thursday. 

And Muriel didn't care. 

At least that’s what he told himself as he took apart the last of that Honda Civic, once again sweating through his shirt in the heavy heat of South End. The rain had finally passed, and what was left had been a wet shop and air so humid he could barely breathe. Luckily, he had buckets of rainwater filled to the very rim that had been collecting every last drop that wormed its way through the weak shingles and drywall of Muriel’s shop. If Inanna got thirsty, she could drink. If Muriel got overheated, he could dip a cool rag into one of them and wipe his face with it. 

He leaned up from where he sat, hunched over car parts with narrowed eyes and concentrated features as he unscrewed and took apart bits and pieces of the motors and gears. Muriel pretended he didn't flick his gaze out to the street or the parking lot, in search of any glimpse of magenta in the grey of a cloudy South End. When there was nothing but his next project sitting in his parking lot -- a navy blue Pontiac Aztek with a broken air conditioning system, from one of the families that came to Muriel whenever their engine so much as stuttered -- he sighed and looked back down at the part he’d been dealing with. 

It was nearly done -- that Honda was nearly out of his life for good. He already sold the body of it, along with plenty of the parts. All that was left were the wheels, and the things he wanted like the motor and all of the bolts or steel he figured he could use one way or another. He had made about a hundred fifty on the body, and about sixty on whatever salvageable bits he got rid of. A nice pay -- one that would stuffed right beneath his mattress where it belonged. 

Inanna whined from where she lay, across the room and on a pile of blankets. She wanted to go home -- to go home and sit in front of Muriel’s grumbling window AC. He wanted to go home too, obviously. Take a shower and maybe find something to eat before crawling into bed and resting off the aches in his back he’d gotten from leaning over those car parts all day. He considered it for a moment, but only a moment, before he shook his head. 

“After I deal with the Pontiac,” he mumbled aloud, earning another whine from Inanna. “I promise.” 

About thirty minutes passed before Muriel had collected everything he needed from the motor, and he could finally stand up and stretch out his locked muscles. He reached a hand up and rubbed the back of his sore neck, starting to the table and his tool box so he could start packing up what he needed for the car outside. He stopped, however, when he heard the sound of tires crunching the pavement outside. 

There was no denying the slight leap of his system at the sound. There was no denying the light in his widened eyes when he turned around, in search of that magenta Jeep… 

Then there certainly wasn’t any denying of the way his shoulders slumped at the sight of an old black Audi rolling into his parking lot beside the faulty family car. He studied it as the engine shut off, before turning and watching the way Inanna perked her ears up and stood from her blankets. She padded up to his side, plopping down in a sit by his feet as she always did when he had visitors -- like she meant to protect him somehow. Muriel reached down and rubbed her head, narrowing his eyes to see through the tinted windows when the driver’s seat door popped open. 

Muriel felt his heart sink at who stepped out. 

“What is he doing here?” Muriel murmured to Inanna, turning his head away from Ludovico as the man stepped from his car and up to the shop. 

Ludovico had come to have a chat with him, a little grin on his lips seeing how much Muriel dreaded having him here.  
“Hey, Scourge!” he called, slamming the car door behind him and beginning to approach Muriel. “I figured we could talk, yeah?” 

The Scourge was a nickname that Lucio had given Muriel during a job. Something that was supposed to be threatening, to make it clear that he wasn’t someone to be fucked with. Whether Lucio had made it up there and then or not depended on who you heard about it from, but either way it was a name that had been stuck with Muriel for years, one that he associated with possibly the worst time of his life.

He didn’t wait for an answer, catching up to Muriel and glancing at the car beside him.  
“This is your job now? What do you even make?”

Muriel had stiffened at the nickname, his eyes still on the ground.  
“Enough,” he mumbled, jaw muscles pulsing as he grit his teeth a little behind his frowning lips. “Why are you here? I already paid you.” 

Inanna gave a low growl, standing up from where she sat and rounding about Muriel until she stood in front of him, the hair of her back bristled as she stared up at Ludo with constricted, yellow-green eyes. Muriel told her quietly to stand down, but all she did was stop her growling. She stood in place, between Muriel and his visitor, ears pressed flat against her head. 

Ludovico glanced at her, raising his hands sarcastically in a show of surrender.  
“Watch it, dog, I’m just talking to him. I’m not gonna put a damn finger on him.” His eyes flicked back to Muriel. “I’m here to tell you to come back. Earn proper money, pay off your debt, whatever. Lucio’s been giving us all the shit deals since you left. Blames us. You really want to put us through shit just because you didn’t want to put up with it? Your jobs weren’t that fucking bad in the first place.”

He almost took a step closer, but the increasing volume of the growling made him retreat and take the step back.  
“It won’t be that big of a deal if you just apologise for having left. Lucio’s got a soft spot for you, he’ll probably only give you some bodyguarding job when he welcomes you back.”

Muriel’s shoulders rose up a bit, a chill darting down his spine at even the mere thought of it. The mere thought of going back. Of taking that job again.

“I’m not going back,” Muriel said quietly, his mouth dry when he spoke. He still hadn’t looked up at him, hands curling into fists at his sides as the pressure built up in his chest. “Lucio and I have a deal. I give him the money… I don’t have to work. Now go away.” 

“A deal? What, you think that six hundred a month minimum is going to put any dent into your debt. You know that he raises it every month, right? You pay six hundred and he raises it five hundred. All you pay every month is about a hundred. He doesn’t want you to leave- he wants you to work every day that you can in order to try and pay off this debt. Then when you can’t work with cars, he’s going to make you work with him. The sooner you come back, the sooner you get to actually chip into your debt. I’m betting fifteen jobs could get rid of your debt entirely. You’ll be working fifteen years before you get pay off what one of those jobs could do.”

Ludovico grit his teeth.  
“What is so fucking difficult to understand about this? Fifteen damn jobs! That could be done in two weeks!”

Muriel’s hands were shaking, Ludovico’s words getting to him just the way they were intended too. He closed his eyes shut and shook his head.  
“Don’t you get it?” he nearly whispered, swallowing so hard against his dry throat his throat seemed to click. “If I go back, he won’t let me leave. He’ll never let me go… I… I can’t go back…” 

Finally, Muriel lifted his head, looking away from the ground and at Ludovico. Into Ludo’s eyes with his own dark and tired ones. His bottom lip trembled when he spoke, hands still tightly balled at his sides, large knuckles blanched white with the pressure. 

“What’s so… what’s so difficult for you to understand? I’ll die before I go back there, Ludo. That’s a promise.” 

His voice was low and dark -- features twisting into something downright scary. Any bit of light from his eyes had been gone, his brow overcasting his gaze in a dark shadow as he tipped his head forwards and scowled. It was a look he didn't like to show, a silent threat he didn't like to give. He could see the flicker of fear reflect in Ludovico’s features as the man looked him up and down, but he didn't change the curl of his lips or the low growl of his words when he spoke again. 

“Go away. Now.”

Ludovico frowned, opening his mouth to speak- when Inanna’s growling grew louder, turning to a snarl, and he kicked the ground.  
“Whatever,” he muttered. “Just stay here and be a fucking coward then. Live your life in debt. When you can’t pay and you’re brought back to work for Lucio, I won’t be the only one laughing, Scourge.”

He left, getting into his car and speeding away with a loud and unpleasant squeal of the tires, gone around the corner within a matter of moments. It wasn’t going to be his fucking problem in a few weeks anyway, when Muriel was dragged back to work and he was getting better jobs again.

Muriel watched him drive away, eyes still dark and bleak as they trailed his car all the way to the corner where it disappeared in a sloppy turn. It was then he noticed how stuttered his breathing had become, feeling Inanna’s cool nose prod at his shaking fist and snapping from whatever shadowed daze he’d been stuck in. With a trembly sigh, Muriel took a step backwards or so, looking down at his hands as he slowly uncurled them, turning them over to look down at his palms. 

That talk with Ludovico, the momentary dip into the old headspace of the Scourge -- it was bringing back things he didn't want to think about. Things he couldn’t afford to feel guilty over anymore if he wanted any peace of mind. Muriel stared down at his hands, remembering what they had done… what he let them do. Inanna whined, nudging him again with her snout, trying to get him off of the metal track he had surely been tumbling down. The touch seemed to push him out of it long enough to reach his hand up and push it back through his hair, eyes squeezing shut as he tried to push all of that out of his head. 

He needed something to focus on. Not work, not cars, not his hands, not Ludovico, and especially not damn money. Muriel opened his eyes and quickly dragged them across his shop, in desperate search. He needed something to focus on. Something to hold onto -- even if it was for a little bit. Even if it was for a single damn second- 

Muriel’s phone, a blocky little flip phone that had treated him well for years by then, sat by the tip jar, surrounded by slips of post-it notes with his customer’s names and numbers on them. 

He didn't know what he was doing. One second he’d been stuck where he was, breath still hitching and hands still shaking -- but then the next moment he’d been by his work table, one hand patting for his phone, and the other rifling through customer numbers in search of the right one. He found it, peeling it off of the table and bringing it close, flicking open his phone and dialing in the numbers as he saw them. One after another, until his eyes met the cute little heart doodled in beside that last digit. 

Then his thumb hovered over the green call button. 

Then, somehow, he pressed it without thinking...

Asra had been on his way to a provided location, his phone plugged into the car radio as pop music blared out, when his phone began to ring. Not only did it cut off Call Me Maybe, but it also meant that Faust had to uncurl from around his neck to press the button with her nose, her tongue flicking a little as she slithered back over to Asra.

He glanced at the phone, not recognising the number that it had been- but he did often get calls from unknown numbers, so he didn’t mind answering.  
“Hey, Asra Alnazar here, who’s calling?” he smiled warmly, awaiting a response, able to hear the soft and uneven breathing from the other side of the line quietly. It was a little unnerving, sure, but nothing that he wasn’t able to put up with. “I’m driving right now, but I have time to talk if this is urgent.”

Muriel froze, eyes shooting open wide and jaw locking before he could even get a word out. He even seemed to stop breathing, falling deadly silent at the sound of Asra’s voice through his flip-phone’s speaker. Muriel floundered desperately for a moment, mind flushed completely clean -- devoid of proper thought the moment Asra Alnazar met his ears. It took a few more seconds before he acted, his finger moving to the red ‘end call’ button before he could stop it. He hung up in an instantaneous click, before snapping the phone closed and bringing it up to his lips, worried eyes staring emptily at the table before him. 

What did he just do?

Groaning a little, Muriel set the phone down on the table, before placing both his hands on the edge and leaning forwards, hanging his head as the embarrassment began to sink in. he supposed calling Asra like that had been a good idea -- the panic was still fresh, but the humiliation had been fresher. Considerably harsher too, with that stabbing pang twisted into his stomach. He reached his hand up and pushed it back through his hair, lifting his eyes to look at the phone with a slight frown. 

Part of him wanted to put it in the parking lot and take his truck over it a few times to ensure he’d never screw up so badly again. 

But the other part… the same part that had been looking for that magenta Jeep earlier… 

It almost hoped Asra would call him back. 

But nothing came. Asra was driving, first of all, and it was an unknown number that had called him. He wasn’t sure how to respond to it, as curious as he was, and figured that if he did investigate it wouldn’t be for at least another thirty minutes.

For the rest of the day, however, there would be a nagging feeling of curiosity urging him to find out whose number that was. If he wasn’t at work, he probably would have.


	4. Different Feelings

“I don’t care,” Muriel told Inanna, who followed on his heels as he made his way to the bathroom. In his hand, he held his rather dormant phone, still flicked shut and silent since he had used it the day before at the shop. “I don’t care.” 

‘You don’t care.’ 

Muriel shook his head, opening up the small linen closet beside the bathroom door with a creak of old hinges. “Nope,” he muttered, grabbing the last of his towels and slinging it over his shoulder. He would have to go to the laundromat soon -- just like the towels he was running out of clean clothes to wear. He’d been wearing the same sweatpants he wore then for the past couple nights when he went to bed. He had obviously abandoned shirts for sleeping due to the summer heat, but he wouldn't mind washing his sheets too. Maybe he’d go that weekend before his second job. “I don’t. I don’t care.”

Inanna plopped down in front of the bathroom door as Muriel pushed it open, not following him inside, but still watching him and that phone in his hand with judging green eyes. 

Muriel set the phone on the counter beside the sink, shuffling awkwardly around it as he stepped towards the back of his cramped bathroom -- as he always did. Muriel’s bathroom had the essentials and the essentials only, there wasn’t enough room in his budget for… well… room. Which of course caused problems for a man his size. He almost lay his hands flat against the ceiling if he stretched his arms up, easily touch it even with a bend of his elbows if he decided to use the tips of his toes for extra height. Muriel never really tried it since he had moved in, and he didn't think he would try it. Water stains and creeping spots of cobwebs in the corners didn't look very nice to touch again. 

He turned the shower on, his hand nearly thrice the size of the faucet, and waited for the water to warm, eyes watching the phone on the counter a little bit too anxiously, arms folded over his bare chest. Once the water was warm enough to get in -- but never too hot, he liked his showers a cooler like rainwater -- Muriel did. He undressed himself and stepped in, ducking a little so the water could actually touch his face and wake him up, before standing and letting himself stand in that awkward little standing shower. 

Muriel didn't wash himself in the mornings so his shower was short. He only washed himself in the nighttime, after work. He only showered in the morning out of habit, to wake himself up. A little luxury in his life of… not having many of them. It cleared his head, the cool water -- he could close his eyes and almost imagine it being rainwater. He could almost smell it, the wet grass, the mud, the sharp, heavy scent of the rain itself. Muriel didn't know why he liked rain -- he certainly couldn’t stand those loud thunderstorms that would often roll over Veusvia from time to time -- but the steady patter against his skin and aching, overworked muscles… it was comforting. 

He couldn’t stay there forever. There was work to do, and his water bill could only take so much. Muriel shut off the faucet, and reached a hand out from behind the curtain for his towel. He dried himself off, dried his tangled hair off, and wrapped the towel around his waist, all part of the morning routine. 

He’d just been tucking the corner securely at his hip when he heard it. The phone. 

Muriel’s eyes widened, face paling. Hastily, he pulled the shower curtain open, and started to step out, gaze having fallen upon the bright, buzzing phone that sat upon the old porcelain of his sink. In his hurry, he forgot the customary duck, and his forehead hit the metal bar that held the shower curtain in place. With a groan, one hand on his head and the other making sure to secure his towel, Muriel ducked, stepped from the shower, and reached for his buzzing phone… 

Yep. That was Asra’s number. 

Muriel’s heart leapt. He ignored it, swallowing hard, eyes flicking down as he hesitated. Did he want Asra to know it had been him who called and hung up right away? Would he laugh? Maybe Muriel could pretend it had been an accident-

Answer! Inanna barked through the doorway. 

Muriel started a little, but he listened to her. He pressed the green answer button, and brought the phone up to his head, waiting a good second or so to compose himself before speaking. 

“Uh, hello?” Muriel’s voice was gruff and awkward. He cleared his throat, trying to seem as uninterested as possible. “Who is this?” 

‘Liar’, chirped Inanna in his head. Muriel waved at her through the door, cheeks hot with blush. 

“Muriel?” Asra’s voice came through, confused for a moment- though clearly relieved when he spoke again. “You called me earlier, it’s Asra. I was driving so I couldn’t call back after you hung up.”

That had been the other day -- he’d been out all night. Asra was back home by then, setting his phone down on his bed and putting it on speaker as he began to tug off the clothes he’d been wearing all day. He wasn’t planning on having a shower tonight- just a change of clothes would be enough for now, and if he had time he’d go to the gym. He threw his shirt to the side, picking up a loose t-shirt and beginning to tug it on over his head. It was from some old thrift store, with a faded logo of an obscure band he hadn’t ever listened to. It was comfy, though, and it looked good.

When Muriel didn’t respond for a few moments, Asra decided that he would step in and resurrect the situation. He was a little curious about why Muriel called him- all it had been was silence and then he’d hung up. It might have been a butt dial or just an accidental tap (it didn’t cross his mind that Muriel had had to type out his full number, assuming that he’d already had his contact saved). And if it was intentional, he wanted to know why he’d been hung up on so fast.  
“Was there a reason why you called, or was it accidental? I don’t mind either, I get a lot of calls so I’m used to it, but I’m curious.” 

Muriel blinked. “I… uh…” 

His heart caught in his throat as the hesitation set in -- his window of opportunity for a clean lie was closing and closing fast. He parted his lips, started the first sort of sound for the word accident, but then he closed his mouth and his eyes. There was another pause, and Muriel gave a sigh, fluttering open his eyes and looking down to the ground. He didn't need to see his reflection in the mirror to know how badly he’d been blushing. 

“Something happened and I… I just needed… nothing. Forget about it,” he admitted, gritting his teeth. “It was… it was nothing. Forget about it. I don’t want to talk about it.” 

There was an incredibly awkward pause from Asra’s end as Muriel’s words processed. Muriel made sure to change the topic before Asra could even try to comment. “I was just getting ready for work so… if there isn’t anything you need I kind of have to go,” he said, sighing. “Sorry for… calling like that.” 

“It’s fine!” chirped Asra, smiling a little. “I just wanted to know who it was that called, and now I can save your number.” He tugged on some sweatpants now, Faust coiling up around his arm as he picked up the phone again. He liked hearing Muriel’s voice, though the poor microphone quality from his old mobile made him sound so much gruffer, so much worse. He didn’t like it- but the thought of getting Muriel a new phone was off the table for the time being. 

“I’m about to go to the gym, actually, I was just curious about this so I wanted to call before I left, you know? I’ll let you get on with work, though.” He let Faust hold his phone, her tail curled up around it, as he began to remove the jewellery, pausing to continue listening to Muriel in case he had anything else to say. “Call me if you have any problems, though, okay? I want to remind you that I’ll be just a few buttons away, and you can text me if you dont want to call me.”

Muriel nodded, letting out a low, and rather relieved sigh when Asra neglected to ask what he had been talking about.  
“Yeah, sure,” he mumbled, all while silently vowing that he would never dial Asra’s number like that ever again. There was another pause for Muriel to stop and think about what to say. When nothing came up after his moment or so of floundering, Muriel just shrugged his shoulders, muttered out a quick bye, and snapped the phone close -- listening to the low beep of the ended call and making sure he had hung up before setting the phone down on the countertop again. 

He reached a hand up to his head, rubbing the spot he had hit on that bar as he dragged his narrowed eyed stare up from the phone and into the mirror. Muriel almost started at his reflection -- looking into his mirror was such a rare occasion, he began to forget it was even there. He didn't like to, really. He didn't like to let his eyes meet his reflections, but they traveled there anyways, like someone looking into something horrific and not quite being able to look away… 

They were tired. Dark. Not dark like they had been with Ludovico the day before, but dark enough to strike him as odd to any who happened to pass him by on the street or greet him at the shop. His wet hair was long, in need for another one of his unprofessional cuts with the safety scissors in his kitchen. His stubble was unkempt and uneven -- some would even say in need for a shave, but his hair grew too fast for him to bother with it. The scars that marked his face and his chest were there, roughly raised lines of white dragged up the muscles of his abdomen and chest -- up his cheek and up from his brow.

The scars were the other reason he didn't like looking in the mirror. 

Muriel sent one last glance to the phone on the counter, before rolling his eyes and turning around for the door. He ignored the stare Inanna gave him as he made his way out to the dresser by his bed, not quite knowing -- or caring for that matter -- if it was a teasing look or a judging one. He just waved her away as he made his way back to the bathroom to dress. 

He avoided the mirror when he did so. 

~~~

“Thank you so much!” It had been about the third time the woman who owned that Pontiac had praised him -- Muriel could hardly take it anymore. “I don’t know what I would have done without that AC.”

Muriel nodded, his eyes on the ground, his bangs hiding a large portion of his face. “I was just doing my job, ma’am,” he said, shrugging his shoulders a little. He watched her dig out her wallet from her purse out of the corner of his eye, his brow furrowing a little. “What are you doing? You already paid.” 

She shook her head a little, flicking through the dollars of her wallet. Her son -- a little boy about eight years old -- boredly kicked rocks from Muriel’s lot around with the toe of his shoes while he waited at his mother’s side. Muriel normally didn't like kids all that much. They were usually the ones to stare at him, to shy away from him, to ask rather loudly to their parents why ‘that man looks so scary?’. That boy and his younger sister who was nowhere to be seen that day, however, had been by Muriel’s car shop enough. They were used to him, he supposed. 

“You deserve a good tip for getting this done so fast,” she said, still with that grateful tone of hers. “And your prices are so low- you’re a real angel, you know that?” 

If only she knew how much of an angel he wasn’t. 

Muriel frowned at her as she plucked out two five dollar bills and offered them out to him, wiggling her fingers as if it would prompt him to take it. He took it rather reluctantly, reaching back and ducking the two bills in his back pocket with a flush of guilt dusting across his features. He knew better than to argue with her -- for a woman with two kids and two jobs, she always managed to tip well. 

She gave a soft sigh and slipped her purse back over her arm, knowing not to wait for a thank you from her odd car mechanic.  
“Thanks again,” she said, reaching down and opening up her hand for her son to take. “If I didn't have the car I wouldn't be able to drop the kids off. I’ve got a date tonight. Real nice lady -- she lives in the city and everything…” 

Muriel listened to her go on a little longer, nodding his head despite having his eyes trained on the ground and his mind zoned out elsewhere. She was always a bit of an oversharer -- Muriel knew most of her drama since the day they first met. He always listened, though. She was his best, most reliable customer. The best tipper too…

That was excluding Asra he supposed. 

It was midday, and Muriel hadn’t heard from him. Of course, he had been at the gym. Exercising, lifting weights, stretching… all the things Muriel shouldn’t have been thinking about him doing at the gym. He didn't have time for calling Muriel. He certainly didn't have any time for worrying about him. 

Again, it wasn’t like Muriel cared -- or so he told himself. It was more of a… a curiosity. A concern. Perhaps an interest at the very furthest stretch of the definition. He kept that in mind as he clicked his volume into the highest setting and thumbed through his call list every now and again for missed calls. It was just an interest. 

“Woah look, ma! The cool car is back!” 

The woman’s story about her new girlfriend and Muriel’s lost train of thought were both snapped from their tracks at the little boy’s excited exclamation. Muriel’s eyes widened a little, and he straightened up, following the boys pudgy finger to the flash of magenta turning the corner. There it was, clear as day, that beautiful Jeep and all it’s color. And there he was, sitting in the driver’s seat, the white head of hair still visible through the barely tinted windscreen. 

“Asra?” Muriel said without thinking, watching the car pull up to the shop. 

The lady grinned at him, looking both Muriel and Muriel’s new, attentive posture up and down. “You know him? The kids just love his car,” she hummed, a slick knowing that Muriel didn't understand coating up her words. “Rumor says its been to the shop a few times... looks like I’m not the only one with a new lover, huh?” 

“I- what?!” Muriel looked at her, his face flushing an instantaneous shade of red -- the blush rising all the way up to his ears. “No. No. He’s just a customer.” He turned away, huffing out a low breath and crossing his arms over his chest when she giggled at him. “He likes the cheap service. That’s all.” 

The woman laughed again, turning to watch Asra park his car in Muriel’s lot before taking her son’s hand again. She called a warm goodbye to Muriel, and started away, her son walking behind her -- wide eyes focused on the vibrant pink of Asra’s car. Muriel watched them go, lifting a hand to rub his temple before wiping it down his face, as though he hoped to wipe the blush away. 

What was Asra doing there? Wasn’t he at the gym? Muriel felt like he could melt into the ground and disappear as the sound of Asra’s motor died down. 

The problem came up after Asra had left the gym. He finished his workout and was prepared to just go straight home when he noticed the large grating scratch on the left side of his gorgeous car, undoubtedly left by the pickup truck that had been poorly parked when he arrived. He hadn’t wanted to park beside it, well aware of the risks, but there hadn’t been anywhere to park and unlike his boss he didn’t think himself to be above the law enough to park anywhere. 

He waved to the wide-eyed kid, Faust still wrapped around his wrist. Her tongue flickered as a way of also saying hi when Asra shut the door behind him. His eyes inevitably flicked to Muriel, a relieved smile on his lips.  
“That was good timing,” he said, seeing as Muriel’s last client was leaving. “Someone bumped my car. It’s been scratched up horribly- can you do something about that? I’m not sure how those things even get fixed.” 

Asra having just left the gym had its downsides- he didn’t have much with him because he hadn’t planned on leaving, his car was running low on gas since he hadn’t planned on driving this far, and his clothes were sticking to him with sweat. He had to push his messy white hair from his face every so often when it plastered to his forehead, suddenly wishing he’d ignored the scratch long enough to go home and shower. 

“I only wanted to do a quick workout today and then I left to see my car scratched. I didn’t even get the number plate of the dude who did it, even though I knew how bad his parking was and how much of a risk that was. I’m just… irritated about it, I guess, and I know how good you are with cars compared to mechanics in my area, so I came here.” He glanced back at the ugly scratch on his car, sighing. It was a heartbreaking few streaks of scratchy grey and gross indents that took away from the beauty of the car itself.

Hopefully Muriel would get it back to it's former beauty soon- and if he could, he’d be sure to tip plenty. The last money didn’t seem to have done much for him, even as he’d been hoping that Muriel would spend the money on himself. 

Muriel’s eyes widened a little, trailing down from Asra’s reddened face and to his slightly sweat patterned shirt. His cheeks flushed again, but he turned his head so Asra wouldn’t see, lifting a hand up to rub the back of his neck. 

“I… you wanted me to do it?” he asked skeptically, furrowing his brow a bit. Muriel was sure there were better places to go for a new paint job — especially because he was sure he didn’t have that color of paint in his shop. Sure, the places in the city were more expensive, but they were more professional too. Safer, if anything. 

Despite that, Muriel shrugged his shoulders, and lifted his head to look at Asra again. “I’ll see what I can do,” he sighed quietly. “I don’t have the paint but… I can sand down the scratches. Fix the dents. Whatever.”

Inanna, who had sat up from her blanketed spot in the shop when she heard the new car pull into the lot, started out of the garage and made her way to Muriel’s side. She plopped down at his side, looking up at Asra with a warm sort of stare for a wolf, her tongue lolling out of the side of her mouth. Muriel ignored her, his gaze on the car, trying to spot the scratches. 

“What side is it on?” he asked gruffly, folding his arms over his chest. 

“The left,” Asra said as he pointed to the mark on the car, the far side to Muriel, sighing a little. “What colour paints have you got? I’ve been looking at repainting it for a while. I don’t like when it’s the same colour for too long. I’d give it a nice pattern if I could, but I don’t want to run the risk of getting it hugely decorated and then getting scratched again and needing to get all the colours redone. Things like this make me glad that I haven’t.”

He folded his arms over his chest, sighing.  
“I could do with a new colour, though, and I’d like to get a new air freshener but I don’t know if you’ve got any of them.” He beamed, looking down to Inanna and kneeling again. “Hey, girl! Come here, I’ve got something for you!” He dug into his pocket, taking out a bag of dog treats, pulling out a couple. “I’ve started keeping these in my car in case I need to come see my favourite mechanic and his beautiful familiar.”

Muriel almost spluttered at the word favorite, but Inanna on the other hand leapt at the opportunity of praise. She stood from Muriel’s side and rushed by Asra’s, instinctively sitting in front of him nose tipped up and sniffling at the bag with an anxious licking of her chops. Muriel, having just recovered from being referred to as Asra’s favorite anything, watched nervously as Asra brought the treat close to her mouth. She never snapped when he fed her, of course. She was too smart for that -- too elegant. But he didn't let the fact dampen down his slight worry.

She took it nicely though, and then she took the next two with the same sort of politeness one wouldn't suspect a wolf to have. She whined when Asra rolled up the bag again, but Muriel told her to hush and she stopped, licking her teeth for the last bits of flavor before standing up and making her way to Muriel. 

Tell him thanks. 

“She… uh… she says thanks,” Muriel mumbled, reaching a hand up to rub the back of his neck. He turned before he could see Asra’s smile, starting to his car without another word, Inanna following rather happily on his heels after such a delicious snack. 

The car was scratched on the left -- two, long lines dragged along the side of the once perfectly smooth magenta. There had been a dent, too. Muriel frowned at it, feeling bad somehow to see such a nice car with the same sort of problem as most of the others in South End. It didn't deserve that. Asra certainly didn't deserve that either. Even if he wasn’t a client, and even if Muriel didn't have a nice tip to guiltily look forwards too, he would have fixed it without a second thought. That car was too pretty to be left with such a blemish for too long. 

To be left with such a scar. 

Muriel could hear Asra stepping up beside him, gym sneakers squeaking against the pavement of the lot. 

“It’ll be about fifty for the dent and the sanding,” Muriel said. His tone was low, as it always was when he spoke about business and cars. It seemed to be the only thing he could talk about without taking moments to pause or lull in his train of thought. “I don’t have that many colors… just the normal things. Black, grey, white. I might have a little bit of blue or... maybe yellow. A paint job would cost about....” Muriel looked over the car, calculating in his head. “Three fifty to five hundred? Maybe a little more depending on the paint...” 

Asra nodded, beaming as he listened to Muriel’s soft murmurs, liking a lot more in person than he did over the phone, with the shitty microphone quality mixed with the feedback and general scratchiness of the audio that accompanied it. There was something sweet, almost hypnotising about his soft Irish accent and the deepness of his voice, Asra could listen to it for days on end without getting bored. If only Muriel talked more.

“Three fifty?” he murmured, a little smile curled onto his lips, his soft and loving gaze still fixed on Muriel. “Sounds fine. I can manage that. Should I go pay that in now?” He straightened up a little, taking his wallet from his pocket and glancing to the door to the garage. When Muriel gave him that nod, he began past, scratching behind Inanna’s ear on his way inside. He dug about in his wallet for a few moments but, exactly as he promised he’d do, he rolled up a small handful of notes around the required payment and placed it into the jar with the same softness as usual. He liked to leave it lying down on top of the rest of the money thrown about, a little way of making it clear to Muriel which money was given by him and which wasn’t.

When he came back, giving Inanna another few pets, he turned his attention to Muriel. “How long do you think this will take? Because if it’ll be a while I can walk down to the shops and get us some drinks? Or ice cream? It’s really hot today.”

Muriel frowned at him. “A full body paint job with just one worker is about a three to four day wait time,” he said, swallowing hard. A prickle of nerves bit at his system, at the slight surprise that spread across Asra’s features -- he hoped he wouldn't get mad. “I-I’m sorry. It might be better for you to get the job done somewhere else… with the colors your want… and… with someone more professional…” 

He looked back at the car, biting the inside of his cheek. “To be honest… I don’t get a lot of paint job requests. They cost too much… I-I don’t know how good I can do it. You probably don’t want to trust me with your car.” 

“Really?” Asra frowned, folding his arms over his chest. “I wouldn’t trust anyone else with it. You’re good with cars. If the paint is that big of a problem then I can take it somewhere else but I would rather leave it with you.” 

He glanced at his car, a little frown on his lips. He’d be able to get home with an uber and take another car around for the next few days if he needed to, but he didn’t want to put that kind of a burden on Muriel. He wasn’t going to be unfair on him no matter what.  
“It’s fine with me,” he added quickly, still smiling. “If you can do it, it’s fine with me, but it’s more about you. I don’t want to put a job like this on you if you aren’t willing to do it. And while you do the dent, my offer for a drink still stands?”

Muriel stared at him as though Asra had been a mad man. He furrowed his brow a little bit, flicking his gaze over to the Jeep. He wouldn't trust anyone else with his car…? Muriel found that hard to believe -- almost at least. He couldn’t figure out any reason why Asra would lie about it. Nobody lied to Muriel to spare his feelings. He was sure Asra wouldn't either. 

“I guess I’ll do it,” he mumbled, giving a half hearted shrug. Muriel needed the money and Asra was offering… he supposed he had no other choice. “You don’t have to… I mean if you want to get drinks-... I like cherry Cola.” 

Diet! chirped Inanna in his head. 

Muriel placed a self conscious hand on his stomach. “Diet,” he said only allowing his lips to quirk just a bit at the teasing huff from Inanna. 

Asra offered a little smile, nodding as he picked up his phone and wallet. “The shop… it’s just up that road, right?” he asked, pointing down to the left of Muriel’s shop. Muriel gave a nod, and Asra in turn gave him a broad smile as he turned to begin walking. 

He didn’t mind spending a little more on Muriel, quite happily starting down the road. As Muriel requested, he collected a diet cherry cola and a fanta for himself, along with a couple snacks. It almost seemed hotter than he remembered on the way back to the shop, sweating badly, the cold drinks in his hands suddenly feeling so much colder. He was already looking forward to drinking it, liking to indulge in the simplest pleasures that life had to offer. 

Asra pulled into Muriel’s lot, and Muriel asked him through the window to park the car by the garage so he could work on it there. He did so, backing in carefully and hopping out of the front seat, waiting for Muriel as he leaned on the hood of his car, fanning himself with his hand. 

 

“Hey,” he called when Muriel got back in range. Had he not had enough to drink during his workout? It might have been more than fatigue causing such exhaustion. He’d need to get himself a proper cold drink when he got home. Something like fruity ice water was always good, brought in those filter bottles where he could leave the fruits and sip the drink throughout the rest of the day. He wondered if Muriel ever got to enjoy those simple luxuries. “I got it for you. Here.” He offered out the drink to Muriel, then opening his own and beginning to drain it. He was parched- he hadn’t even realised- but he needed this more than he thought that he would.

Muriel took his can of cola, watching with a furrowed brow as Asra began to drain his own fizzy orange drink. He didn't question it -- Asra had just gotten back from the gym after all, and it was hot. Nearly pushing ninety-five not including humidity, if Muriel had to guess. It hadn’t bothered him too much, of course. He was used to it. A sweaty brow and rolled up sleeves were really the only things he usually had to fight it. The cool soda resting in his hand was a luxury, one he almost couldn’t wait for as he popped the cap open. 

“You can go look at the paints while I start working. They’re over there,” Muriel mumbled, nodding his head towards his paints. He took his first sip of his cola, the carbonation nice on his tongue and even nicer on his throat. He pointed at the car and its damage. “I’ll start sanding down the scratch and then fix the dent.”

Nodding a little, Asra began to wander in the direction that Muriel had pointed in, trudging over to the paints, finding himself struggling to focus on them as he grew lightheaded. He glanced at his bottle, a little irritated to find it empty, tempted to go and get something else to drink as his throat grew dry and scratchy. Muriel really didn’t have many colours, but the ones he did have were nice. He was torn between the blue and the yellow- they were cute.

Muriel had collected his tool box while Asra was away at the drugstore, so he set it down beside the car. He took a quick sip of his soda, and squatted in front of the scratch, lifting a hand and tracing the white streaks of damage that sullied the perfect magenta glaze. It wasn’t too bad… but it wasn’t too good, either. Muriel frowned, and placed his soda can on the ground next to his tool box before digging through it to find what he needed to smooth out the scratches. 

He worked like usual, as if he hadn’t had an audience wandering around his garage with those expensive squeaky sneakers and a rather sweaty grey shirt. About ten minutes passed, and Muriel had smoothed away over half the damage with just his hands and his sanding equipment. The dent would be another problem, of course, but Muriel felt confident as he leaned back, wiping his forearm across his sweaty forehead as he studied his work. He took one of the final few sips of his soda, and turned to look inside the garage, looking around for Asra. 

“I’m almost done with the scratches. You can call your Uber whenever you’re ready to leave,” he said, frowning a little. Asra had been rather uncharacteristically quiet as he studied those paints, having chugged his entire Fanta in the first two minutes Muriel had started working. “Have you, uh, picked a color?” 

“Hm?” Asra turned to look back at Muriel, suddenly hit with a wave of dizziness at the suddenness of his movement, followed closely by an overwhelming nausea. His head was starting to throb, pounding as he grew more and more irritating. “Oh, yeah, I like the yellow,” he said with a little nod, absently moving one hand to settle on his suddenly churning stomach. What was going on? He probably should have gotten something better to drink than fanta. “Can I sit down somewhere?”

Muriel stood up from his spot by the car, wiping his hands off on the front of his shirt. He looked at Asra by the paints, frowning a little as he nodded to one of the lawn chairs set up by his table.  
“Yeah, sure,” he said, watching the way Asra held his stomach. A sparkle of concern popped off rather dimly in Muriel’s chest, but he ignored it, reaching a hand up to tuck his hair behind his ear. It had been sticking to his face with sweat -- it was very hot that day. He started towards the paints to see which can Asra had been talking about, grateful for the break and a chance to stretch his legs a bit. 

“There’s a sink in the back too, if you need to cool off,” he added. “It’s… kind of hot today.” 

Asra processed what Muriel said to him, nodding along to his words despite the swaying of his system with every move.  
“Thanks,” he said, patting Muriel’s arm gently as he began to move past him to approach those chairs, wanting to sit down for a bit and let his dizziness fade before he’d splash some cool water on his face with the sink in the back room. He only managed to get a couple of steps, however, before his dizziness and his weakness combined overwhelmed him and he suddenly found himself incapable of walking. 

Just as he began to fall, though, bracing himself for the harsh greeting of the cold floor of the garage, he instead felt firm hands grab ahold of him, catching him, a little surprised that Muriel had acted so quickly.

Muriel had been keeping a wary eye on Asra -- rather fortunately so. He noticed the stumble of Asra’s feet before Asra had even started to trip. He noticed the way Asra’s weight swayed when he took his first step and how heavily lidded Asra’s hazy eyes had been. It had all clicked in Muriel’s mind the moment he watched Asra stumble, and he acted without proper thought. Muriel had to admit it had been awhile since he moved so fast. He had rushed to Asra’s side and caught him under the arms just as his knees buckled. Inanna gave a yip of surprise from her cot of blankets, leaping up and trotting forwards as Muriel moved to wrap his arm around Asra’s back, leaning down and using his free hand to worriedly sling Asra”s own arm over his shoulders. Faust, who had been curled around Asra’s wrist, slithered from it and climbed across Muriel’s shoulders, draped around the back of his neck so she could prod at Asra’s head with her nose. 

“Asra?” Muriel asked quickly, his eyes wide as he looked Asra up and down. His head seemed to be lolling on his neck -- knew enough about health and heat to know that hadn’t been a good sign. With a worried sigh, Inanna sniffing at their heels, Muriel started to half-guide half-drag Asra to the lawn chair he’d been talking about. “What happened? Are- are you okay?” 

“Fine, fine…” Asra insisted sofly, his eyes fixing on Muriel despite his haziness. “I’ve been through worse, don’t- don’t worry about me. Not even if you look cute when you’re so worried.” A little smile quirked onto Asra’s lips as he said that, moving one hand slowly to brush along Muriel’s cheek before it fell back to his side. He especially liked how the delicate brush of red on his cheeks brought out the green in Muriel’s eyes.

Muriel frowned, cheeks flushing like mad. He ignored the comment and the gesture however, blaming it on the heat as he set Asra down rather gently in the lawn chair when he got them to it. Muriel was quick to go to the back of the shop towards the sink, running some cool water on one of the rags he kept back there. Inanna followed on his heels the whole way there and back, pacing back and forth behind the lawn chair in a fretful sort of way as she watched Muriel place the rag on Asra’s forehead. He had to sweep Asra’s bangs out of the way first, his fingers curled and his touch gentle as he pushed Asra’s hair back before laying the rag across his reddened brow. 

“Keep that on there,” he said, leaning back. Muriel brought his hand up to his chin, eyes darting to the side as he tried to think. It had been awhile since he had to deal with anything like heat exhaustion or heat stroke -- he’d only gotten sick from the heat maybe three or four times and that had been many summers ago. “I… I think you just have heat exhaustion. You need, uh, water. And… and air conditioning… and… I’ll call you an Uber so you can get out of the heat, I guess…” 

Muriel nearly forgot about the snake draped around his neck until he felt the brush of her tail somewhere on his chest. He blinked, looking up at her.  
“You want water too?” he asked, feeling stupid talking to a familiar that wasn’t his. 

She nodded. 

Muriel went back to the sink, telling Inanna to sit and wait with Asra while he got cups of tap water. Faust watched him from his shoulder, her tongue flicking periodically as he filled up two spare cups with water -- hoping up and down they would be clean. He brought them back, stepping up to Asra’s chair and crouching down beside it so they were nearly level. 

“Here -- can you hold it?” His voice was soft with worry, eyes round. Almost guilty. 

Asra nodded, holding out his hand and taking the cup. He offered Muriel a smile and murmured his thanks, bringing the cup to his lips. While he drank, Faust curled a little more firmly around Muriel’s neck from her tail and leant down to the cup, dipping her nose into it and beginning to drink. 

“She says thanks, too,” Asra murmured as he brought the cup away from his lips, the cold water giving a perfect chill to his overheated system, already making him feel much better just managing to get something proper to drink. “She says that you’re her friend. Faust really wanted me to let you know.” She pulled back from the cup, turning to look up at Muriel and pressing her nose to his cheek as something affectionate before going right back to drinking. Asra smiled a little more. “See? You make her happy.”

He finished his drink pretty quickly, already feeling a little more level headed, but not wanting to take the risk of getting up just yet.  
“Hold off on calling that uber for me though, will you? I think I should stay here until I feel better. I’ll just need to let my boss know I’ll be running late for work this evening.”

Muriel, still a little flustered from having been kissed by a snake, looked down at Asra with an exasperated sort of stare.  
“You need to go somewhere cold,” he said, shaking his head. “I… I don’t have air conditioning here…” 

He trailed off, looking around. He spotted the electric fan set up by Inanna’s bed, and quickly turned to the wolf with a sort of questioning glance. She gave a yip of approval, and Muriel went to go grab it, setting it beside Asra’s chair and turning it up to the highest setting. When he leaned back and crouched down beside the chair again, Asra’s cloudy white bangs blew listlessly in the breeze created by that small yet powerful fan. He frowned, suddenly remembering the touch of Asra’s forehead and the tickle of his hair against his fingers. A gentle blush began to spread up his cheeks and to the tips of his ears as he stuffed his hands into his pockets. 

Now was not the time. 

“Sorry for grabbing you,” he blurted, biting the inside of his cheek. “I… you were falling. I hope I didn't hurt your or anything.”

“You? Hurt anyone?” Asra said softly, a little laugh bubbling up in his system. “You’re too soft for that. You could never hurt anyone.” He held out his hand, being ever-so-delicate as he reached up and brushed a little hair behind Muriel’s ear. As he began to pull his hand back, he let it stop by Faust so she could coil up around his wrist again, the coolness of her scales pleasant against his warm skin. She disappeared under his sleeve again and, after a moment, was curled up around his neck like a beautiful purple necklace- one that moved on occasion and stuck it's head out of his collar after a moment.

“Is there a problem with me staying here?” he asked softly, brows furrowing with concern. “I don’t want to be an inconvenience to you. I’ll keep quiet if you need to do anything. I might have a nap.”

Muriel barely heard Asra’s second little mumble, his system still recovering from Asra’s previously innocent disbelief. The words were said with the best intentions, of course, but there was no denying the bitter sting they left burning in Muriel’s gut. His face had paled, eyes going a little wide. He could barely appreciate the feeling of Asra’s hand against his face when he tucked his hair back. 

‘You could never hurt anyone.’ 

He wished with all his heart that had been true. 

It wasn’t until Asra cocked his head and furrowed his brow over worried eyes when Muriel snapped out of his painful daze. He blinked, and then promptly looked away, standing up and taking a good few steps away from Asra and Faust. Inanna gave a worried whine, moving over to his side and licking at his fingers. He ignored her. 

“You can stay,” Muriel said, voice quiet and gruff. Back to the way it was when they had first met. “Only because you need rest. I’ll get you more water, and Inanna can watch over you while I work.”

Without another word, Muriel went back to the sink and filled another cup for Asra, quietly handing it to him as he passed and continuing on to the car, head ducked and eyes on the ground. 

Frowning a little, Asra turned his attention to Inanna.  
“Did I say something wrong?” he asked, reaching over and petting the top of her head absently. “I really hope not…”

Inanna gave an apologetic whine in response.

He pulled back, closing his eyes and focusing back on Muriel, watching him as he worked with a look of confusion. He sat around there for another hour recovering and drinking before he felt better enough to get up. He pushed himself to his feet, then began to approach Muriel. He didn’t like this shift in behaviour, this feeling that he’d ruined Muriel’s mood so badly that he’d felt the need to push him away entirely.  
“I’m feeling better,” he said to him softly, moving one hand to settle on his bicep- timid, cautious, not wanting to risk upsetting or hurting him. He was worried that Muriel would flinch away from him. He didn’t want to ruin the relationship he’d already begun to build up with Muriel with something he hadn’t realised he’d said.

Muriel tensed under Asra’s hand, feeling the warmth of his fingertips seep down into his muscles — as though the magic was trying to calm him in a way. He gave a low sigh, setting down the tools he used to buff out those scratches. Part of him wanted to apologize for earlier… but the other part knew that an apology would require an explanation he didn’t want to give. So instead, Muriel just leaned back and looked up, allowing his gaze to catch Asra’s for a moment or so before turning back to the ground. 

“That’s good,” Muriel mumbled, Asra’s hand on his shoulder a very real presence. Not really a bad one, just a… a real one. It took a lot of his willpower not to lean into it. “I’m used to the heat… I should have known it might have affected you.” 

Asra offered a little smile, looking up at Muriel and keeping his hand on his arm, liking that Muriel didn’t pull away from it.  
“I’m used to it, but coming straight from the gym without having enough to drink… I didn’t think that through too much.” He laughed softly, just to try and encourage Muriel to loosen up a little more. “Hey… I’m sorry if I said something that upset you. I don’t know what it was but I clearly crossed a line.”

He moved his hand cautiously to Muriel’s hand, taking it, evidently not thinking of it as anything but a chaste gesture.  
“Is there something I can do to make it up to you? Get you something else to drink, anything?”

Muriel’s eyes widened, flicking down to Asra’s hand resting on his own. It was so small in comparison, so soft and delicate. Manicured and gentle. Beautiful against Muriel’s rough, calloused fingers and skin. He blushed, hoping Asra didn’t find him ugly with the contrast so apparent. 

“It’s fine,” he murmured, swallowing hard. His eyes remained on their hands, stuck there. The touch was warm — it buzzed against his skin. “I… you didn’t say anything. I’m just… it’s nothing. Nothing I want to talk about anyways.” 

He finally tore his gaze from Asra’s hand against his own, looking up into Asra’s eyes. “I… I can feel your magic. When you touch me — I can feel it,” he said, very quietly. Muriel didn’t understand why he was saying it, of course, but he did. “It’s not a bad thing. It’s just… there. You’re powerful, right?”

“Pretty powerful,” Asra nodded, though the compliment made him blush and his eyes flicked over to the side. “It’s not what I pride myself on, it’s not something that I like to have pointed out. My parents were both powerful magicians too- at least that’s what I heard. I taught myself magic from a young age. I was just… lucky. I guess. My parents must have passed a lot of power onto me.”

He averted his eyes, shrugging a little.  
“I don’t use my magic a lot, though. It’s something that I use for little things around the house most of the time and I used it to scare off that man, but I really don’t normally use it.”

The question of magic was unfamiliar. He didn’t know why he didn’t like it being brought up. He wasn’t embarrassed by it, but he’d used it for a lot of things that he couldn’t tell Muriel about. It was one of the main things that kept him employed by Lucio- his power. It was one of the only things that stopped him from getting fired for how he spoke to Lucio. It was too risky to lose someone as powerful and as knowledgeable as he was. People typically already knew that he was powerful, so he wasn’t often questioned about it. On top of that, he used to own a magic shop, doing card readings and helping people in whatever little ways he could. 

“Why?”’

Muriel shrugged, looking back down to Asra’s hand. It took every bit of restraint in his system to keep from holding it with his own — every voice in his head at their max volume as they commanded that sharp ‘no, Muriel’. He wanted to… he wanted to so bad. Asra’s hand was so soft…

“I’m not that good at it,” he mumbled. “Magic, I mean. I don’t… I never use it. I can barely use it to talk to Inanna — she’s not even my familiar. Just a wolf who says things sometimes…” 

Inanna gave a huff behind him, but it was teasing. She nudged him in the back with her snout in retaliation. Somehow, the action quirked a frail smile up Muriel’s lips. 

“Fine. You’re technically a familiar,” he said, shaking his head a little. “But… I don’t know. I can’t usually feel people’s magic but yours is just there. It’s…” He trailed off, the word beautiful resting on his tongue. “Nice. I guess. If it was dangerous my magic would have warned me so… it’s nice. I don’t know.” 

His face started to burn. Muriel turned so Asra couldn’t see. 

“Mine is often prominent. I’m not really a fan of it- some people get intimidated and others think that it makes me better than them. It’s more of a burden than you’d think, you know? But… hearing you comment on it was nice. It makes me a little happier to have this gift.” He reached out, taking Muriel’s hand as if he could read his mind, as if he knew what Muriel silently wanted.

Muriel’s whole face burned red, his jaw clenching in his effort to keep from smiling. 

Asra glanced down at Inanna and scratched behind her ear before his focus turned back to Muriel.  
“Still, my offer for a drink stands.” He winked playfully, not meaning anything by it. “If you want to come out with me again sometime, I know a few places that we could go to. Quiet, of course, as per your preferences. I’d never put you somewhere that would make you uncomfortable, you know that.”

He supposed that now he was just looking for excuses to spend more time with Muriel- though it wasn’t often that he found someone who knew nothing about him and had good intentions in life. It was rare that he found someone like that that he wanted to protect.

Muriel’s mouth was dry, watching their linked hands -- his own feeling clammy and dumb in the powerful yet transfixing hold of Asra’s. Again, he almost couldn’t believe how soft they had been. How delicate. Like porcelain… but with fire beneath the beautiful glass. Beautiful and refined on the outside, fierce and magical on the inside. Either he didn't really notice how his fingers seemed to curl a little more securely around Asra’s hand, or he pretended he hadn’t -- Muriel didn't care. He just looked away to the ground. When he spoke, his tone was begrudgingly grumbly, but even the slight turn of his head and the obscuring nature of his long hair couldn’t hide the curl of his lips. 

“I guess that would be okay…” The blush seemed to reach his shoulders by then -- he was sure it was a pitiful sort of sight. “I still think you’re delirious from heat, though.” 

“Not from heat,” Asra said, his lips quirked into a playful smile this time, his eyes narrowed yet shining with amusement. “Just delirius.”

He pulled back one of his hands to take Faust from around his neck, letting her curl and weave between his fingers, her tongue flicking out of her mouth happily.  
“Faust says that we’re free tomorrow,” he said. “But I can be free tonight when I call my boss. What do you say? We’ll go in your car- I know the city like the back of my hand, I can show you everything. And the bar we can go to is pretty small, not too popular. It has a high arching doorway, too, so you don’t need to worry about ducking when you enter this time. The only risk is whether or not Julian is there- he’s one of my coworkers. He’s loud, especially when tipsy, but he’s meant to be at work today so I don’t think he’ll be there.”

He looked back up at Muriel, brushing some of his hair from his face.  
“But if you’d rather I found somewhere else, just in case, then I can do that. Anything for you to be comfortable.”

Muriel swallowed hard, feeling Asra’s fingers trail across his forehead as they pushed his hair aside. They brushed over his scar — the one that sliced up from the front of his right brow. A shudder traced down Muriel’s back at the feeling. He hoped Asra didn’t find it ugly, that he didn’t recoil at the touch. 

“I can do that,” he said, not really knowing what words left his mouth. He just seemed eager to please, despite the low wariness that spurred in his stomach at the idea of going out in public again. “We could… get a booth seat, though. We don’t have to sit at the bar…”

He suddenly realized he had never really sat at any kind of bar before. His cheeks flushed a little and his shoulders raised in a shrug. “Would Inanna be able to come?” 

“Inanna would be welcome anywhere,” Asra said with a little smile. “It’s fine. And yeah, we’ll get a booth seat somewhere quiet and I’ll order the drinks for us.”

Asra smiled up at him. “And if Julian does find us there, we’ll be able to handle that. Trust me.” He squeezed Muriel’s hand before pulling away, glancing back at his car. “Let me know when you’re done with this. We can go to my house so I can change out of my gym clothes and then we’ll go to the bar. How does that sound?”

Muriel’s heart leapt at the idea of going to Asra’s place. He couldn’t quite tell if it was from fear or… or something else.  
“Okay,” he mumbled, eyes flicking down to his hand, tracing the places where Asra’s hand had been upon his own. “Sure.”


	5. A Night Out

“You… live here?” 

Muriel leaned over his steering wheel, peering through the windshield and tipping his head up — dragging his awed gaze up the tall skyscraper he had brought his old green truck up to. There was a slight tangle of nerves somewhere deep in his system at the sight of it, of course. Its resemblance to the Palace was striking. The sleek, modern glass windows, the staggering height, the polished look of pretty much everything and anything around it — from the cars to the people. The only thing that kept Muriel from turning around and driving as far away from that place as he could was its tie to Asra. Even as Muriel parked across the building — not allowed in the parking garage without a pass — he pointed out what floor his room had been on with a charming sort of smile. Muriel nodded along, but he still ducked his head as he turned off the obnoxious spluttering of his truck’s engine, ignoring the down turned stares of the folks who walked past on the sidewalk. 

“Are you sure they’ll even let me in?” Muriel asked skeptically, pulling the keys from the ignition. “I’m not… I’m not the kind of person who should normally be here…” 

“They’ll let you in,” Asra promised with a warm smile, his hand settling on Muriel’s arm. “You’re with me. They won’t ask any questions.”

Asra opened the door, glancing over at Muriel and offering him a reassuring smile as he slipped out of the car. He stopped off by Muriel’s side and waited for him to get out before crossing the road by his side. He wasn’t going to go walking ahead without Muriel. Inanna came trotting down by their side, too, and Asra offered his own little smile as he approached those gorgeous glass doors. He pushed open the door and stepped aside to let Muriel and Inanna in first, the ‘PETS WELCOME FOR TENANTS ONLY’ being blatantly ignored. Asra began inside, looking over at the girl behind the counter. Just as she opened her mouth to point out Muriel’s ‘large dog’, Asra decided to speak instead.

“I haven’t been able to talk to you for a while,” he said as he approached the desk, having just wanted to find something that he could use to start the conversation that would stop her from commenting on Inanna. “Sorry- you know how work’s been.”  
“Uh… yeah,” she nodded, though still pointed at the wolf as she tracked mud into the hall. “You know other pets aren’t allowed. I don’t want to have to get some security or anything but my boss will get on my ass,” she said, offering an apologetic smile.

Asra opened his wallet, though, and after two hundred dollars were slid across the table, they agreed that they could find a loophole that would let Inanna in. Muriel gaped, a guilty sort of look crossing his features at the amount pushed across the counter. It was a guilty look, and almost a sort of coveting one. He watched Asra throw away two hundred dollars without a mere blink of his eye or a downwards curl of his lips. How he wished he could be so… expendable with his own cash. 

Asra talked with her for a brief moment or two longer before beginning to the elevator again, taking Muriel’s hand to pull him along so he wouldn’t be too distracted with the beauty of the place. 

“Come on,” he said, pressing the button for the elevator, the doors dinging open. A family walked out, giving Asra little smiles and Asra’s friend a look of either confusion or disgust. Asra murmured for Muriel to ignore them and stepped inside the now-empty elevator, Inanna settling down beside them. He let the doors close and pressed the button for his floor, sighing a little.

His gaze drifted lazily about the elevator.  
“Sorry about them,” he said softly. “This is meant to be a really prestigious place- the only reason people are nice to me is because I live here, so they clearly think I deserve to be here. It’s what I hate the most about living here. He squeezed Muriel’s rough, calloused hand again, only now realising he hadn’t let go of it. “Don’t let it get to you.”

Muriel shrugged, his eyes on the floor of the elevator. “I’m used to it,” he mumbled, lips curled into a bitter sort of frown despite his assurance. He felt Asra’s eyes on him, his apologetic stare a bit pitying. Muriel’s shoulders rose, face deepening in color. His fingers twitched a little against Asra’s hand, daring to squeeze back, but not quite brave enough. “Whatever. I’m big and scary… people look at me like that all the time. It’s fine.” 

“I don’t look at you like that,” Asra said, moving just a little closer to Muriel absently, offering him a warm smile. “I like that you’re big. And I don’t think that you’re scary at all.”

With a soft little huff, Muriel turned his head away. His lips, though, twitched into the lightest smile, obscured by his hair. Inanna nudged his fingers with her cool nose, whining a little so he’d turn and look at her smug sort of stare. Muriel rolled his eyes, ignoring Inanna’s teasing. 

His smile remained, though. 

The elevator rose up a few more flights before it slowed to a stop and the doors released a low sort of chime. The doors opened with a charming, electronic hum, and Asra’s floor opened up in front of them -- a long, lavish hall with grey carpets and the occasional tall houseplant with waxy, ivy green leaves. Inanna was quick to trot from the elevator, her tongue lolling from the side of her face. Muriel, with a slight pinch of regret, let go of Asra’s hand and started after her, telling her to wait up. She stopped, walking around in two exact circles before plopping down in a proper sit as she waited for Muriel to catch up. 

Luckily, Asra’s floor was rather empty. Muriel looked around as he made his way up to Inanna, only noticing a man walking to his room at the far end of the hall -- his back to Muriel and his wolf. He let his shoulders sink and his posture relax, turning to watch Asra walk towards him, that sweet smile still curled up his lips. 

Asra happily approached, not greeting his neighbour for Muriel’s sake, not wanting to draw attention to him. He moved his finger along an invisible line on his door, about an inch away from its surface, and a soft glow followed his movement. A moment later, the lock clicked and the door opened.  
“It prevents theft,” he said to Muriel, entering his room and holding the door open for him and Inanna to enter. Faust, having realised that they were home, was soon sliding out of Asra’s pant leg and making her way along the birchwood floor, her tongue flicking happily. “Welcome.”

He pushed the door closed behind Muriel, turning back to look at his gorgeous apartment, with the tall windows letting sunlight pour in through the windows, casting a gorgeous glow onto the warm floorboards. The furniture was chic, all expensive and luxurious, though the different colours were such a contrast that it worked. Asra had every charming aspect of who he was somehow meshed together in the vibrant colours that were used in his curtains, rugs, pillows and couches, in the somehow beautiful patterns that would have been hideous anywhere else.

Or maybe it was just something about Asra that made his house seem beautiful.

“Make yourself at home, I’ll have a quick shower and then get changed.”

It was going to be hard for Muriel to make himself at home there. 

He had stopped at the doorway, staring into Asra’s apartment with wide, astonished eyes. His steps stuttered as he stopped dead in his tracks, eyes running along the wide open space of Asra’s apartment. Just that first room -- something that looked to be a living room of sorts with long, modern looking furniture and a handsome view of the city through those floor to ceiling windows that paneled the back wall -- was bigger than Muriel’s entire single roomed apartment and bathroom. He took a few staggered steps inside, peering around the wall to see the living room split off into an open kitchen and dining room, fitted with sleek countertops and an artistic sort of decor. Muriel couldn’t even believe it… how could one man and his snake have so much space? 

Inanna seemed to lose a bit of her enthusiasm at the size of Asra’s apartment too, falling back behind Muriel’s legs, pacing back and forth behind his calves. Muriel reached a hand back and rubbed the back of her ears, shaking his head a little as his rationality caught up with his shock. Asra had already started in towards the kitchen, setting his car keys down on the countertop with the clinking of metal against granite stone. Muriel didn't think Asra would want him following on his tail like a big, lost puppy, so he started forwards a bit awkwardly -- looking for somewhere he could sit. He made his way towards the couch, quietly telling Inanna to stay off of it as he sank down to sit a bit stiffly at the edge. 

Again, that overwhelming realization of his own self worth compared to that of Asra dawned upon him. Just like that money, the couch and the floor and the lights and even the colorful decoration all gave Muriel a sense of guiltiness for just being in their very presence. It was all too important for him -- too lavish and too expensive. Hallowed, like those three hundred dollars. Like Asra’s perfect hands. 

He drew his shoulders up a bit, cheeks flushing as he looked down at his feet: his old, dirty work boots that he hoped up and down wouldn't track anything on Asra’s nice floors. Inanna curled up on top of them, though, obscuring his sight of the boots -- so he didn't have time to wallow in it all. So instead he looked up, finding Asra in the kitchen setting up something on the stove in the kitchen. Muriel debated asking him what he’d been doing, but his usual grumble wouldn't carry in such a big space, and he didn't really want to raise his voice. 

So he just watched him. It took a few minutes of guilty peeking to notice Asra had been making tea. Cups clinked, the tea kettle hummed, and the click of his magically fueled stove all coming together in a sort of domestic harmony Muriel never had the pleasure of experiencing. Asra closed the open cabinets with a magical flick of his wrist, and he cut the flame off of the stove with nothing but a snap of his fingers -- using magic to cool the kettle so he wouldn’t have to burn his hands. The normality of it all, his magic, it made Muriel’s head nearly spin. His routine was nearly addicting to watch… addicting to want…

Muriel started out of his half-impressed half-yearning daze when Asra’s voice rang sweetly from the kitchen. 

“Do you want sugar or milk in your tea?”

He was already bringing over the kettle, setting it down on a mat on the table. He then brought over the milk and a little bowl of sugar. He set them down by Muriel and scratched behind Inanna’s ear, patting the space on the couch.

“Come on, up!” he encouraged her, smiling patiently. “I’m not worried about mud or mess. I said you guys could make yourself at home, so feel free to get up on the chairs. Sometimes I have to have my boss and my coworkers over. And when Julian comes over and has a bit to drink, he’s dancing on the damn tables. Whatever mess you two make will be nothing.” Grinning, Asra gave Inanna one last firm pet and began to the bathroom.

“I’m going to shower!” he called to Muriel over his shoulder. “Help yourself to tea, feel free to rummage around for snacks, what’s mine is yours.” He disappeared around the corner after only a moment, not giving Muriel time to argue with him, the bathroom door closing after a moment, followed by the sound of the shower running.

Muriel blinked, watching him go -- eyes trailing him the entire way until he turned the corner. Inanna hadn’t been so patient. She leaped up on the sofa beside Muriel, curling up close to his side and laying her head on his lap. He couldn’t quite tell why she had been so suddenly nervous. Muriel could even feel the low brew of her apprehension deep in his own stomach through whatever flimsy magical connection the two of them shared. It was either the look of the building… or perhaps the height of Asra’s floor. Maybe it had been the place just reminded her of something bad -- something from when she’d been a pup, before Muriel had met her. The same way the city reminded Muriel of his life before her. 

It took a few moments of petting Inanna and calming the slight tremor of her system before Muriel leaned forwards a bit for that tea Asra had offered. For such a cool kettle, the tea seemed to come out magically hot as Muriel poured it onto one of the cups Asra left -- steam twisted up from its surface in delicate veils, and the cup had been warm as he held the tiny thing with both hands. He felt bad neglecting the milk and sugar, but Muriel never really had tea before. He didn't know how much of what to put in. Muriel just leaned back, the little teacup in his hands and his wolf’s head on his lap in the quiet living room of Asra’s giant apartment. 

He tried to relax as he waited for the tea to cool, gingerly sipping at it every now and then to gauge a taste through the piping hot burn of his tongue. It was… nice. The tea at least airy and sweet -- a pleasant taste that clung to the mouth. The calming feeling of it, that alluring steam… they reminded him of Asra in a way he couldn’t quite understand. Every longer sip relaxed the coiled tension of his shoulders a little more, and he slumped backwards into the couch -- letting his back meet the backrest and his aching joints take a break of sorts. 

That too was… nice. It eased the pain of his neck and his spine. It cleared his head, for sure. 

Inanna had calmed and the tea had been over halfway through when he heard the shower squeak to a stop. Muriel looked up and over to the door Asra had disappeared to -- dully wondering why Asra had used the downstairs bathroom instead of the master bath he had to have had in his bedroom somewhere. He leaned up, turning his gaze down to the floor as he set his little cup upon the table in front of him. He kept his eyes there even when he heard the bathroom door squeak. 

Asra came out of the bathroom after a moment, one towel wrapped around his waist and another around his shoulders.  
“How is the tea?” he asked Muriel, liking how much more relaxed the two of them were. “I’ll only be a few minutes to get changed but I wanted to make sure that you two were okay. I get that this is quite a difference from the places you’re used to being, so I didn’t want to be too far away in case anything happened.”

Ah, that had been why he’d showered downstairs. Not preference or comfort, but because he’d been worried about Muriel. Mostly, he’d been worried about whether or not Muriel would have been able to settle down despite how it sounded. He wouldn’t want to leave Muriel in an unfamiliar environment and then proceed to go too far away to be able to act quickly if anything happened. While being in the shower was far from practical in the event of an emergency, showering by the living room was far more useful than showering in his bedroom at the other end of the apartment.

His eyes flicked to the teapot, where he noticed Faust curling up around the teapot. Her tail hooked around the handle and her head settled atop of the spout, her eyes shining.

Warm! she chirped to him, earning a little smile from Asra.

“Don’t mind Faust, either. She likes warm things, but the cups are too small for her.”

Muriel had lost his words, eyes wide as he stared at the very shirtless Asra in front of him. Very clothesless, actually -- he was quick to correct himself on that as his eyes dragged down from Asra’s chest to the towel wrapped around his waist. The immediate flush of Muriel’s face had to have been astoundingly obvious -- but he ducked his head quickly, turning away and looking down at Inanna. 

“You’re…” 

Half naked? Dripping wet? Staring with those nice amethyst eyes... 

“Making a mess,” he mumbled, lifting a hand to point at all the shower water gathering around Asra’s feet. “That’s not good for… uh… hardwood floors.” 

Asra laughed softly, raising his hands a little.  
“Alright, alright,” he took a couple steps back. “I’ll get changed and then I’ll be right back. And I’ll try to ruin as few hardwood floors as possible for your peace of mind.” He winked at Muriel before he turned and began through to find his bedroom, already planning out the outfit that he wanted to wear- the casual white button up and the black pants he typically wore for evenings out. He didn’t want to go for anything too flashy to avoid tempting people into coming over.

Again, for Muriel’s comfort. 

He followed that up with his cold collar and blue necklace, though he was quick to add more gold accessories to his outfit. A couple rings and bangles was enough, then all he needed was to collect a little more money and his work phone, then he was set. 

“Alright,” he called as he came back through to the living room. “I’m ready to go, we can leave whenever you want. Would you like to get changed? I’m sure I can get some clothes for you.”

Muriel had stood up from the couch by then, rubbing his temple as though he meant to massage the image of Asra from before out of his mind. He still couldn’t understand what… exactly had happened to him there. Why he had lost all control of his words and his mind -- why his tongue felt so dumb and his lips so stupid as he groped for something to say. It was almost like when he had seen Asra post workout, with his dampened hair and reddened cheeks. He didn't understand it all one bit. The best he could do was try to push it all away, using the puddle Asra had dripped onto the floor as a distraction. 

There was a roll of paper towels on Asra’s kitchen counter. Muriel took the initiative quickly, ripping off a few pieces, laying them down, and soaking up Asra’s shower water by pushing the paper towels around with his foot. He’d been discarding them in Asra’s trash can -- one of those fancy electric ones that opened up with a wave of his hand -- when Asra came into the living room, asking that question. 

Muriel looked up, thankful to see him dressed-

‘Thankful? Sure’ was Inanna’s sarcastic hum in his head. 

He waved her away with another little blush, but shrugged his shoulders in regards to Asra’s question.   
“If you think that’s best,” he said, looking down at himself. Muriel had to admit his shirt had been a bit shabby -- especially compared to Asra’s crisp white button up and glamorous jewels. “I… I doubt you’ll find anything in my size though.” 

“Ah, size won’t be an issue,” Asra said earnestly as he gestured for Muriel to follow him, returning to his room. 

Muriel did. Reluctantly. Inanna watched smugly the whole way there. 

Asra dug around in his drawers for a bit and had soon picked out a nice grey shirt, a button up like his, showing it to Muriel. It was soft, had been pretty expensive for a shirt, and looked as if it would suit Muriel. Asra wouldn’t mind giving it up if he was giving Muriel something more comfortable to wear. Maybe one day he’d be able to buy Muriel new outfits so he could wear things that were comfortable, not just whatever fit. 

“How’s this?” He asked, cocking a brow. “I can find something else if this isn’t your style.”

Muriel looked at it, using it as an excuse not to study Asra’s room some more -- no longer focused on the spacious, king sized bed nor lavish television set nor the colorful tapestries hung about the walls. He absently reached out to touch the shirt Asra offered him, feeling the soft material beneath his fingertips. His eyes instantly rounded at the touch. 

“It’s nice,” he murmured without thinking. Once Muriel did get a handle on his words, however, he blinked a little and pulled his hand back and shrugged his shoulders. “I mean, it’s fine. I don’t care.” Muriel studied the shirt some more, offering a slight frown. “But… it does look a little too small for me.”

Still offering that warm smile, Asra took ahold of the shirt by the hem along the bottom and by the collar. With a flashy sparkle of beautiful magic, the shirt began to stretch when he pulled it, new threads weaving in and the original threads growing, expanding to fit the side he pulled it to, until he could hold it up to Muriel and it was the perfect size to fit him.

“Nothing a little magic can’t fix,” he said, handing Muriel the shirt. “Do you want some new pants, too? Or will the shirt be enough?” he picked up one of his necklaces from the bedside table, then proceeding to swirl it around his fingertips a few times to let the string grow longer. It then began to lift off of his fingertip and hooked over Muriel’s neck- a necklace like his own, but with a green charm at the end instead of a blue one. It wasn’t clear if he was showing off his capabilities or if he was just spoiling Muriel. Somewhere between the two.

Muriel was speechless, the display of such magic and such power so fascinating -- intimidating in a way, almost. Almost. He could feel the picking up of his heart beneath the green pendant that rested upon his chest, but it hadn’t exactly been beating that hard from fear. Muriel swallowed hard, flicking his eyes down to the necklace for a moment, brow furrowed as he studied it. 

“Thank you…” he said, reaching up to touch the green stone. It buzzed against Muriel’s skin with leftover traces of Asra’s magic. His lips quirked into the slightest smile at the feeling as he turned away towards the door to Asra’s bedroom.. “I, uh, don’t need pants. Mine are fine, I guess.”

“Alright,” Asra said as he watched Muriel leave, smiling just from seeing Muriel seem so content. The little smile that had appeared on his lips was rare, but Asra was just that little bit more tempted to spoil him if it meant he could see it more often. “Then get changed and we can go.”

Muriel nodded as he stepped out the door, lifting his head and looking for that bathroom Asra had showered in. Really, all he had to do was follow the trail of wet footprints he hadn’t wiped up earlier -- ignoring Inanna’s smug yip from the sofa. He slipped into the bathroom, took a brief moment to stand and appreciate the space of it all and the fact he didn't have to duck beneath the doorway before he started to change out his shirts. 

It had been awhile since Muriel wore something so nice -- and while the old occasions were never those of good memory, Muriel found the soft fabric of Asra’s shirt, along with the accompanying smell of Asra himself, was calming enough to drown that particular thought out. He fumbled with his buttons, feeling the fabric stretch a little against his chest as he reached the last few, but not enough to be uncomfortable. Muriel left the top two buttons unclasped, figuring weakly it would be fine as he slipped Asra’s necklace out from beneath the shirt and back out upon his chest. 

Despite the new look, Muriel avoided the mirror as he stepped back to the door, his dirty work tee shirt slung over his shoulder. He didn't need to see his reflection right then and right there. His mood was okay… for the first time in a while it might have even been better than okay. Muriel didn't need to ruin it with a glance at his scars.

Asra was in the living room when Muriel stepped out, petting Inanna. She gave a yap and a low whine at the sight of him, and Asra turned around. Muriel watched Asra look him up and down, a slight flush of self consciousness draining through him for the instant of silence. 

“Does it… look alright?” Muriel asked, reaching a hand up to rub the back of his neck. “I don’t usually wear this kind of stuff…” 

“It looks fine,” Asra assured him, once more taking ahold of Muriel’s hand after a moment. Just something reassuring, a chaste gesture as it usually was. He was so used to being absently-affectionate that it never crossed his mind that it could have been something Muriel wasn’t comfortable with. “Better than fine. It’s nice to see you wearing something proper.”

He pulled back then, beginning to the door and calling for Inanna to come with them, opening the door to his apartment and letting Muriel come through. Faust chirped in his head for him to wait, and a moment later she was slithering along the floor and had disappeared under his pant leg yet again, soon poking her head out of his collar and flicking her tongue at Muriel.

Asra smiled.  
“Whenever you’re ready.”

Muriel cast a quick glance down at his hand -- where Asra had held it so gently -- before blinking hard and nodding his head. He started out the door, an excited Inanna on his heels. Asra followed, and soon they were in the hall, and then soon after that, the elevator. Muriel could still feel the stares of the tenants as they moved across the lobby floor, only then, being outside his usual comfort zone of old tee shirts, they seemed all the more… present. Luckily, Asra seemed to understand, gingerly taking a hold of Muriel’s hand again and hurrying through the main doors and across the street to Muriel’s old truck. 

Inanna got into the truck bed, Asra in the passenger seat, and Muriel in the driver’s. It took him a few embarrassing tries to start the engine, as per usual, but when he had, the old truck burst into splutters -- the engine leaping in its body.

“Just tell me where to turn,” Muriel murmured, backing out of his parking spot. “I’ll drive home too. I’m sure you want to drink…” 

“I get to drink whenever I want,” Asra said, his attention fixed on Muriel, figuring that there was no harm in being a little distracted when he didn’t need to give any directions. “If you want to drink tonight, then I’ll drive you back. Trust me.” He settled back in his chair, eyes fixed on Muriel’s handsome features for a few moments before his focus again fixed onto the road.

He was hoping that they’d be able to get to the Rowdy Raven without much fuss, but knowing Julian- who spent most of his time there- there would always end up being some messiness or business- they’d be damn lucky if he wasn’t there.

“Take a left up here.”

And they began to the bar.

Muriel found comfort in the lack of cars parked along the sidewalks of the street. The white painted parking spots were mostly vacant aside from a nice red sports car and a few others that hadn’t quite caught his eye. There were plenty of pedestrians, however, groups of people walking past each other along the sidewalks of the city. It was an area good for foot traffic, he supposed a bit glumly as he backed the truck into parallel park. 

He was quick to shut off the old engine, wanting to avoid attention as best he could. Which was, admittedly, hard to do with a wolf in the cargo bed and a truck that was about as old as time. Muriel pulled the keys from the ignition, and popped open his door, ducking his head to avoid the stares as he rounded the truck to let Inanna out the back. She sat at his side as they waited for Asra to meet up with them, and then followed on Muriel’s side when they made their way towards the bar — Asra taking up the lead. 

The door creaked when Asra pushed it open, and a cozy smell of warm liquor left the building in one large welcoming waft. There was a low thrum of conversation in the dark bar before them, causing Muriel to shoot a nervous glance Asra’s way, but he gave an assuring nod back and gestured the doorway with his hand. With a sigh, Muriel turned back towards the bar, stepping through the doorway — without having to duck, as Asra promised. 

He was met with a more powerful smell of alcohol, but nothing toxic or dizzying. The Rowdy Raven had a low, smoky sort of scent, and a dark sort of setting with amber shaded lights. There was the bar right up front, and then booths lining the back wall. The right side of the building was an open space, fitted with one pool table where a couple of friends seemed to be having a game. Other than them, there seemed to be only three or four other people in the whole bar — which was surprising for a night as nice as that one in the city. Muriel absently wondered how the bar was staying afloat with so little customers, but then Asra made his way up to his side, offering a wave to the man at the bar. 

Then Muriel got some idea of how, remembering those three hundred dollars Asra had spent on him like nothing. 

Muriel parted his lips to tell Asra he liked the booth in the back corner, but before he could get a sound out, one of the few customers at the bar called out — his voice loud and a little slurred as he turned around on his bar stool. 

“Aaasra!” An excited, slightly slurred voice shouted out to him. Asra tensed up beside Muriel and murmured something under his breath. He gestured to the booth.  
“Sit there,” he urged softly. “Just settle down- I… No, we’ll sit together. Julian will come over in a moment but he isn’t likely to stay. I hope.”

He moved to the chairs, glancing over anxiously to the bar.   
“That’s Julian. He works with me, and he spends most of his time here when he isn’t. He’ll probably come over soon, but we can find something to drink.” He slid over a drinks menu to Muriel, settling down. “Start choosing something to drink.”

“Asra!” he called again, and Asra glanced over to see his tall friend beginning to saunter over, a drink in one hand and a grin on his lips. Asra would have wondered how long he’d been there but judging by the stumble that plagued his every step and the slurring of his voice, it had been a matter of hours. “It’s good to see you! We haven’t worked together in… daaaysss!” He slumped down beside Asra, hooking an arm around his neck. Asra offered Muriel an apologetic smile before turning his focus back to Julian.

“Let’s not talk about work, hm? I’m just here to have a drink.”  
“Ah, of course,” Julian nodded, a crooked grin curling onto his lips. His gaze drifted about the bar, his one exposed eye landing upon Muriel- a stranger, someone he’d never seen before. “Ohoho, Asra, why not introduce me to your… big, handsome friend?”

Muriel blinked, tensing a little at Julian’s bold words and strange, unfamiliar accent. He parted his lips, face heating up as a bright blush crossed his features, but his throat seemed to get stuck. Nothing but an embarrassed splutter seemed to leave him, so Muriel frowned and ducked his head, letting his hair fall in front of his eyes. He’d let Asra introduce him -- already he could feel himself grow irritated with Julian’s voice. Perhaps Muriel could say he was already considerably irritated by this man in general. His nerves sizzled with every slurred word and every drunken gesture. 

Inanna gave a warning huff, her eyes narrowed. She didn't seem to like him either, shifting in the booth seat so her head was in front of Muriel’s chest -- like she hoped to guard him. 

“He’s called Muriel,” Asra murmured, glancing at Muriel when he’d noticed the discomfort and frowning a little. “And we were hoping for a bit of a quiet night, so if you could keep it down that would be nice.”

Julian’s brows furrowed a moment, as if the idea of keeping his voice down was too unfamiliar, too foreign for him.  
“Come on, Asra! Think of the parties we used to throw, the celebrations we had! The drinks we shared! I’ll get both of you something to drink, on me! Hm?”

Again, Asra’s eyes flicked to Muriel’s, as if he was asking him for permission, but when Muriel had yet to look back at him he shrugged and nodded.  
“Alright,” he gave in, not opposed to a free drink in the slightest- this was where Julian blew off most of his paychecks anyway, dragging himself slowly closer and closer to alcohol poisoning to hide feelings he didn’t like to feel. Asra knew that all too well.

Everyone had hit their lowest. Asra had gotten through it, Julian was going through it, and he supposed he didn’t really know about Muriel. Not that he didn’t want to know.

“Give us a few minutes to choose, alright? We’ll call you over in a moment, feel free to go back to dancing on tables.”

Muriel didn't speak until Julian had been far from their booth, his lips still curled into a bitter scowl, narrowed eyes following Asra’s loud friend all the way to the bar.   
“I don’t like him,” he grumbled bluntly, flicking his gaze back to the drink menu before him. 

Inanna whined in agreement, leaning back from in front of Muriel slipping down off of the seat so she could curl up beneath the table. Muriel reached down and patted her head as she curled up upon his feet, still frowning as he searched through the drinks. He’d never been that much of a drinker, really -- in fact, Muriel couldn’t remember the last time he actually had anything alcoholic in his system. The only thing that really caught his eye were the old, fruity beers. 

“I know he’s quite a handful,” Asra said softly, making sure to keep his tone level and patient. “It’s okay. He’s not too bad when he’s sober, but he’s still a handful either way. You just need a little patience and he becomes more tolerable the more you get to know him.”

Asra reached over the table and brushed some of Muriel’s hair from his face. “I want to see you. Maybe I should cut all your hair off so you can’t hide behind it anymore.” His words and tone were soft, playful, but he did mean it- he wanted to see Muriel’s face, and he didn’t like it when Muriel hid behind his hair. As endearing as it was.

“I’ll call him over to cash in those free drinks, yeah? He won’t stick around for too long, though- everyone here knows him, and everyone here likes to hear about his stories. Late in the evening he settles down with a drink and he starts telling story after story- some he’s told thousands of times before, some that you think he’s making up along the way. We’ll be out of here by then, though, so you’ll have to wait until another day if you want to hear his stories about being a pirate of some sorts or of his family.” 

At this point, Asra wasn’t quite sure why he was still going on. Muriel was on edge, though, and he was sure that he was only telling him this in the hopes that it would warm Muriel up to the idea of Julian and therefore make him a little more willing to tolerate Julian’s presence.

“Do you want me to go over to talk to him or can I call him over here?”

There was a dilemma in that question -- Muriel found himself frowning over it as he looked up at Asra, unconsciously tucking another strand of hair behind his ear. He didn't want Julian to come back, and he certainly didn't want to be called big and handsome again, but he didn't want Asra to go either. Which was a pitiful feeling, really, but one he couldn’t deny. 

“You can… call him over here,” Muriel murmured, ducking his head a little. Part of him wanted to untuck his hair, but he didn't. He turned his menu over and pointed at the drinks he’d been looking at. “Tell him I want one of those, I guess…” 

Asra reached over, letting his hand settle on Muriel’s once he’d noticed the drink he wanted. His focus drifted back to Julian, and he waved him over with a call of “Ilya!”

And, as expected, it was a matter of moments before Julian was wandering over, still grinning, carrying a conversation with someone from the other side of rht bar that he had been talking to just moments ago. When he seemed satisfied that the conversation was over, though, he slumped into a seat beside Asra.  
“What can I get for you?” he questioned, one arm slinging over Asra’s shoulder, holding him close.   
“Well, you know my usual,” Asra said, his eyes flicking back to the menu. “And a cherry beer for Muriel, if you’d not mind.”

Julian’s gaze flicked to Muriel, his brow cocked and his lips tugged into a smile.  
“Ah, nice choice! This place has wonderful beers.”

There was a moment or so where he might have expected Muriel to respond, but he was up half a second later, when he realised that he wasn’t getting one. Asra watched him go, chatting with everyone that he passed, having already gotten to know most of the regulars and even a few people who only came here on rare occasions. Asra didn’t bother trying to start conversation with Muriel just yet, knowing that Julian’s return would discourage him from continuing the conversation for long.

And, as anticipated, it was only a matter of moments before Julian was coming back, a drink in each hand- a fruity cocktail for him, which worked well with his high tolerance and his preference for fruity flavours, and Muriel’s cherry beer.

He looked for a moment as if he was about to sit with Asra yet again, to try and engage in conversation with him and with Muriel, but just as he opened his mouth someone from the other side of the bar called his name and he was whisked away into another conversation. Asra watched him go, a little smile on his lips.

“We should have a while alone before he gets back,” he told Muriel, still holding his hand gently. “Enjoy your drink. We’ll leave whenever you want to.”

Muriel nodded a little, only allowing his gaze to drift to Asra’s hand for a brief moment or so before he reached for his for his beer. It was from a tap, poured into a rather large glass -- almost large enough to keep his fingertips from touching when he curled his hand around it. Muriel gave a wary glance at the fizzling alcohol, cocking his head as he watched the bubbles rise to the top layer of foam. He hadn’t had beer -- good beer -- in… ever, actually. He didn't even know if he would like it... 

But he wasn’t going to waste anymore money. 

He lifted the glass to his lips and took a ginger sip, his other hand still resting on the table for Asra to hold. His nose instantly crinkled at the strength of it, eyes pinching closed as the strong beer touched his tongue and burned at his throat -- but once that sizzle was gone, the nice, fruity taste of cherries remained. Clinging to his taste buds in a delectable kind of way. Muriel set the beer down, trying to blink the cringe from his features all white ignoring the little snicker from Asra across from him. 

“I don’t usually drink,” he mumbled in defense, a slight, embarrassed smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I’m not used to the… taste.” 

“I can tell,” Asra purred softly, that telltale smile still curled about on her lips. He smiled a lot- it was good that he had such an enchanting smile. “It’s fine, though, if you’ll be hanging out with me often then you’ll get used to them soon enough.”

He brought his straw to his lips, taking a few sips and humming at the pleasant mix of tequila and the fruity flavouring that met his tongue. It made his throat burn softly in a familiar sort of way- and it was times like these when he had such strong drinks that he had a high tolerance. If there were any good consequences from him hitting his lowest point, it had to be his high alcohol tolerance and his stunning ability to repress shitty memories.

So at least he knew what he would do if his time with Muriel took a turn for the worse.

“Are you alright being here? It’s not too much, is it?”

Muriel, still a little stuck on Asra’s comment about them hanging out more, blinked a little and slowly shook his head.   
“I’m… fine, I guess,” he mumbled, his cheeks dusted with the slight pink of blush. Muriel lifted his drink again, and took a bigger sip -- managing to keep from wincing too much as he swallowed down that gulp of beer. “It’s quiet. Mostly quiet, anyways.” his eyes drifted to Julian at the bar, his loud voice carrying through the entire bar. 

He took another sip, savoring the taste of cherry as he leaned back into the cushion of his booth seat. The two of them sank into a comfortable silence, Asra slurping away at his drink through the straw, and Muriel growing accustomed to the burn of his own drink with every few gulps he’d push himself through. He studied the layout of the bar in that time, making himself aware of his surroundings. Aware of the tables and booths, of the line of taps and old beer signs hanging behind the bar, of the old jukebox tucked into the corner, and, most importantly of the shelves of vintage car parts hanging on the wall by the pool table. Perhaps when that group of friends were done with their game he’d saunter by and look at them -- at the old engine and some of those hubcaps. 

Again, his attention was brought to Asra’s loud friend when a spike of laughter sounded out from his bar stool. Muriel looked at him, frowned, and took another sip of his beer -- eyes trailing to Asra as he brought up the courage to revive their own conversation. 

“You never really told me what you… do,” Muriel murmured, setting his beer down. “You and… Julian, I guess. Are you like… a banker or something?” 

Asra offered a fond smile for a moment when Muriel started the conversation- but his smile faltered when the question was presented. He… he honestly should have expected that Muriel would have asked again but he didn’t quite expect him to ask so directly. He’d only given elusive answers and he knew that someday it wouldn’t be enough.

“Ah… I do work with money often, but I’m not an accountant of any sort. I’m just… my job doesn’t really have a description.” Murderer would work. Drug lord too. “I do all sorts of things.” Selling drugs and killing people, amongst other things, such as torture and interrogation, general violence, standing in as a bodyguard, stepping in for shootouts and sometimes just counting up money or reporting in to the boss. “So labelling it as just one thing wouldn’t work. Sometimes I buy things in bulk for the boss, sometimes I sell, sometimes I’m sent out on jobs where straying away from the official rules could get me killed, but… you know. It’s never too much of one thing and never too much of another.”

Was that going to be enough of an answer? He hoped it would do for now- he didn’t know what he’d do if Muriel kept asking. He’d definitely scare him off if he told him about this kind of a business.

“Have you always been a mechanic? You’re good at your job- I can’t really picture you doing anything else.” Asra was just using anything that he could to change the topic of conversation- he didn’t want to be asked about his job. He’d tell Muriel eventually, if he had to, but until the day came that he needed to tell him… it could remain a secret.

Muriel furrowed his brow a bit at Asra’s strange answer. He knew what avoiding questions was like -- he knew what it sounded like and he knew how to do it fairly well. Asra was incredibly good at it also, but not good enough that Muriel didn't catch onto his pattern. Not good enough for him to miss the obvious shifting of the topic. 

He ignored it though, figuring with nothing but a sparkle of worry it was nothing. Asra was probably just… a little closed off like he was. Maybe he didn't like his job, or maybe he was ashamed of it. Muriel didn't have the right to know… he didn't have to pry or concern himself with it. 

He could only hope that Asra felt the same about him when he began to beat around the bush of his own past. 

“I worked in the city for a little,” Muriel mumbled, shrugging his shoulders and ducking his head down a bit. “Picked up… jobs, I guess...” Oh, maybe it wasn’t such a good idea for him to go on. A trail of guilt trickled down his rib cage like acid, causing him to stop and trail off in his tracks. Muriel tilted his head down even more, hair falling into his face from behind his ears. “I just did whatever I could do. But I’ve been working on cars since I was young…” 

Muriel had two choices -- a sort of fork in the road of his conversation. Did he continue, elaborate about his childhood and dreaded topic of his parents, or did he stop and hope Asra wouldn't ask? Muriel reluctantly went with the second choice, his grip on his glass of beer a little tight as he lifted it to his lips. He drained a long sip, feeling the alcohol burning on his tongue and throat before the nice buzz in his chest. Muriel set the cup down and lifted his head, a little surprised to find it a bit lighter than it had been before. 

Maybe he’d been going too fast -- Muriel had to blink a bit to clear his head from the slight whirl of colors. 

Asra listened intently, leaning on his hand as he sipped his cocktail. He liked that Muriel was opening up little by little, but he knew where to draw the line and assumed that if Muriel had stopped talking, it was for a reason and not just because he didn’t want to talk anymore- though the second option wouldn’t have been too far-fetched either. Regardless, he didn’t want to take the risk.

“That must be why you’re so good,” he said after a moment or so, when he was sure that Muriel wasn’t going to say anything else. “So are you interested in cars and mechanics?” He quizzed, wanting to know more about Muriel but wanting to keep this discussion quiet, not wanting to talk about his work anymore. Thankfully, though- for both of them, as he could see Muriel’s reluctance to answer more questions- Julian was soon making his way back over. 

“Looks like small talk is over,” he murmured to Muriel, offering him a playful wink as he turned to the sauntering Julian.

Muriel’s brain seemed to buffer at that little wink, and he forgot why he’d been uncomfortable.

A half-empty tankard was dropped down onto the table, sloshing dangerously but managing to settle without spilling. It was followed shortly by Julian’s hands semi-slamming on the table- just landing a little more forcefully than intended with his general over-enthusiasm.   
“You two wouldn’t happen to have seen a crow flapping about, would you? I’m not sure if Malak got out again or not.”

Asra watched, unamused, as Julian’s eyes swept the rafters of the buildings, anxiously searching about for his bird- who came through one of the windows after a moment, shrieking out his cries and squawking about as he circled the ceilings. Then, eventually, he seemed to spot Julian and shrieked again, flying over to settle on his shoulder. He screeched yet again, as if out of pride that he’d found Julian- who looked noticeably relieved at Malak’s safe return to his shoulder.

“He’d gotten out,” he muttered, taking a few sunflower seeds from a packet he had in his pocket, holding his hand out flat for Malak to eat. His eyes flicked to the growling Inanna settled under the table and his face lit up again. “Oh! Is she your familiar?”

Muriel’s wide eyes were settled on Julian’s strange, and rather fittingly loud bird, but he blinked at Julian’s slurred question. He leaned back and glanced beneath the table, where Inanna glared up from beneath, eyes glinting in the shadow. Muriel told her quietly that it was fine, and lifted his gaze back up to Julian, once again a bit shocked at the lightness of his head. 

“Kind of,” he mumbled, reaching a hand out for his glass of beer again. He finally recognized the accent -- some kind of slavic accent, faded enough for him to have a little trouble placing. “Yeah. I guess so.” 

He brought his glass to his lips, and drained down a sip. To his surprise, however, the sip went quickly and the glass was empty within one gulp. Muriel flicked his eyes down to it, brow furrowing in surprise. Had he really had that much? He felt fine aside from the lightheadedness. Perhaps it wasn’t that strong after all…

“Do you think I could get another one?” he asked Asra, not really noticing how blurted his words were. “It was good…”

“Another? Of course! Any of Asra’s friends are my friends, and drinks are on me!” Julian cheered, turning to shout for the bartender to get him another cherry beer. He slumped back, gesturing to the space beside Muriel. “Can I sit?”

Asra hesitated, glancing from Muriel to Julian.  
“You could sit by me instead, Julian? Muriel isn’t too good with new people.” He hesitated, sending Muriel a look as if he wanted to get it across that he had no idea whether or not that would work to dissuade Julian. It didn’t.  
“Well I don’t mind letting Muriel choose,” he said, his attention fixing on the muscular man to his right. “Is another cherry beer enough payment to sit by your side, Muriel?” he asked, winking with the eye concealed by his eyepatch but seeming none the wiser to how ineffective it was. 

Muriel could still tell what it had been, and he still flushed with red regardless of the eyepatch. He flicked his gaze up to Asra for the splittest of seconds, as if a silent plea for help, but there was nothing either of them could do. He looked back to the oblivious Julian, and offered the most hesitant shrug of his shoulders. 

“I guess so…” he mumbled, too afraid of saying no and having Julian whine about it. Muriel watched Julian perk up and shift to sit down, and voiced his concern rather bluntly before he could. “Just don’t-... don’t put your arm around me. Please.” 

Julian let out a barking sort of laugh, slumping down beside Muriel with the same crooked grin on his lips and his eyebrow as arched as ever. The beer was brought over shortly enough and Julian slid it over to Muriel.  
“Here,” he said, still offering him a fond smile. 

“So… you been Asra’s friend for long? I haven’t heard him talking about you- but he might just have been trying to keep all that muscle to himself!” He grinned, looking over at Asra. “We both know that someone like you is his type, though.”

Asra’s cheeks flared noticeably, his eyes fixing on Julian, wide in shock for a moment before they narrowed into a glare. If Julian was looking in his direction, there would have been many silent threats passed over or mimed out, but Julian kept his eyes on Muriel

“His… type?” Muriel asked warily, not quite getting it. “I’m just his car mechanic…” He cast a quick, nervous glance over to Asra, who still seemed to be recovering from whatever had embarrassed him. 

Muriel reached for his new beer. The warm burn in his chest eased the discomfort, so Muriel took another sip, trying to ignore that comment about his muscles and instead focusing on that taste of cherry on his tongue.  
“Asra said you work together,” he mumbled, not understanding why he was even trying conversation. Inanna had calmed some, obviously annoyed Julian’s feet had been taking up her place beneath the table. She curled up on the other side of Muriel’s legs, pouty snout in his lap. 

“Mhm! We get along great when we work, it’s a shame he doesn’t spend more time in this kind of place outside of work. We’d hang out a lot more often if he did,” Julian nodded, before an idea seemed to dawn on him. “You know, you’d be perfect for our line of work! You seem like you’d fit the, uh, necessary profile. You’re-”  
“Julian!” Asra said, hiding the snappiness of his tone as best as he could. “Let’s leave it there, alright? Have you run out of your drink? You should get a refill.”

Julian frowned, his mouth still open as if he planned on continuing. He leant over to his tankard and shook his head.  
“Nope! I’ve still got plenty to drink, so-”

Asra swung out his hand and knocked the tankard off the table, causing Malak to shriek at the noise of it clattering and Julian to cry out as his drink was split.  
“There. Go get a refill, okay? And we don’t discuss work anymore. It’s been a long week and I don’t want to hear another damn thing about work.”

Julian seemed hurt for almost a moment, but was soon sweeping his tankard up off the floor and starting to the bar yet again.

Asra seemed almost relieved when it worked and Julian left, sighing as he turned to look at Muriel again.  
“Just ignore him if he talks about work, okay? I- work’s been a lot this week. I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

Muriel had jumped a little at crash of Julian’s tankard, watching with wide, confused eyes as Julian pulled himself out of the booth to refill his glass. The smell of beer left with him, leaving Muriel alone with the strangely agitated Asra. He ducked his head, a feeling of guilt crept over him like crawling ivy. Muriel reached for his own glass and drained another sip as Asra tried to explain himself. 

“Sorry,” Muriel mumbled when Asra finished. His words were more slurred than he meant them to be. “I… I didn’t mean to bring it up. I know what it’s like to not want to talk about… stuff.”

“Ah, it wasn’t your fault,” Asra said with a smile, seeming to change his entire demeanour upon noticing Muriel’s discomfort, settling one hand on Muriel’s yet again. “Julian just runs on with every thought he has. He can’t move from one topic to another when the time calls for it.”

He closed his eyes, pinching his brow and sighing softly. He had to admit that Muriel’s slip up had stressed him out- the risk of Julian outing them for their jobs in front of Muriel, someone he was sure would never forgive him for what he’d done. He didn’t want Julian to say Muriel was built to be a killer, either, as that definitely wouldn’t have gone down well.

“I’m going to need to talk to Julian later about this. Privately- I’ll probably call him. For now, though, let’s just try to humour him.”

Muriel nodded gently, looking up a little when he felt Asra’s hand against his own. He gave a low sort of breath, and shrugged his shoulders a little bit, tracing the fingertips of his free hand up and down the cool surface of his beer glass. 

“Yeah… okay,” he mumbled. “We can do that…”

Again, his words were sloppy — like his tongue didn’t know how to work properly in his mouth. His head was starting to feel heavy rather than light. The airy feeling from before had passed, that clear minded, fuzzy sensation condensing into something pressurized. Like a ball of lead in the center of his brain. It caused his head to sag a little on his neck. His eyelids to sink a little. Made his arm heavy when he lifted his glass to his lips again.

Asra laughed softly, moving his hand to cup Muriel’s jaw, tipping his head up slightly and away from the glass.  
“Muri? Hey, buddy, stay with me. Maybe slow down a little with the drink, too. You’re getting a little too lightheaded for your own good and I don’t want to be carrying you back over my shoulder.” He offered a patient smile, running his thumb along the scar on Muriel’s cheek- absently, yet as tender as any other touch he gave. He was so tender that he hoped Muriel wouldn’t have realised he was touching Muriel’s scar in the first place.

“Slow down a little and I think we’ll just get you some water after this. Okay?” He still smiled, pulling his hand back and letting it settle atop of Muriel’s again. He was hoping that that would work to convince him. Julian’s influence wouldn’t help- he wanted to convince Muriel to stop drinking before Julian got back and became a bad influence yet again.

Muriel had mindlessly leaned forwards a little when Asra’s touch left his face, like he tried to hold onto that warmth of Asra’s fingertips as long as he could before they drifted away from his cheek. His own hand, the one Asra hadn’t been holding, absently lifted to where the wake of Asra’s touch had rested, tracing the residing buzz along his stubbled jaw and the raised skin of his scar. His jaw muscles pulsed a bit at the feeling, eyes wide and confused as they flicked up to Asra… 

That question on his tongue -- the one pertaining his scar, most likely, and why Asra hadn’t been disgusted of it -- lost him, however, the moment he registered what Asra had been saying to him. 

Muriel looked back down to his glass, his hand falling from his face. It was nearly empty… he had blown through two full glasses of strong, cherry beer without even realizing it. However, the idea still took a moment or two to process.   
“Slow down?” he asked, shaking his head. “I’ve only had two… I don’t think that’s enough to get me… I mean I’ve never been…-”

He trailed off, the mystery of his heavy head finally clicking somewhere in his sluggish brain.

“Am I drunk?” 

Asra gave a small smile and a little nod from across the table, and Muriel flushed a deep red. 

He ducked his head again, groaning as he reached both hands up to his temples. Inanna gave a whine along with him, lifting her head from his lap and tilting her snout up to try and catch his eyes. He had them shut though, teeth grit behind frowning lips as he tried to collect his scattered thoughts. Muriel had never been drunk before -- he didn't know what it felt like. Somewhere beneath the fuzzy glaze of cherry beer, his system told him he was probably acting like an idiot. The thought made him blush even more. 

“Sorry…” he slurred. “I didn't know.”

The cute, almost timid reaction that Muriel gave made Asra a little more inclined to let him drink, to take a step back and let Muriel drink if that was what he so desired.

“It’s alright. It’s cute, even. Finish your drink and then we can prepare to leave, okay?” He still let his hand stay settled on Muriel’s, idly running his thumb along Muriel’s knuckles. He just watched him, relaxing, his eyes shining with fondness. He took another sip of his cocktail, having almost finished it by now. He’d already decided, however, that he wouldn’t drink much more to ensure that he could drive Muriel back to his house after this.

He opened his mouth to speak again, but was cut off by his ringtone as a text came through. It was a little snippet of a song by Taylor Swift, one that he’d liked a lot (and had forgotten to silence before coming out with Muriel) and was quick to open the message to silence the happy tones.  
“Fuck,” he said softly, glancing over to the bar, where Julian was slung over a couple of barstools with his tankard pushed toward the bartender, having only made it over a few moments ago. He must have been distracted on the way over or he would have been back by then. He seemed to have been looking at his phone, though his was left on vibrate so there was no music blaring from his side of the bar. 

Asra watched as Julian’s eyes swept around the bar to find where he was sat, fixing on him. There was a moment or so where they didn’t even nod at each other, just agreeing silently that they’d need to catch up in a moment. That they had to leave soon.

The text was, as expected, from Lucio. Apparently there’d been an issue with someone in his higher ranks, and he needed them to help him extract information from them. The exact crime wasn’t clear, nor was the information that needed to be extracted (or, in fact, the desired method of extraction), meaning that Asra would have to wait until he was with Lucio to be told anything. It must have been a leak of sensitive information, however, otherwise Lucio would have told them bluntly. They were either under suspicion or their phones were at risk of hacking. 

Well, the worst information they’d get from Asra’s phone was his iTunes library.

“Hey, Muri, is it alright if we take Julian back to yours with us? I have to keep an eye on him- there’s been a problem at work and I’m meant to go to work with Julian. The problem is… he’ll be a bit loud. We can stick him in the back of the truck? With Inanna? And then we’ll sit in the front- I’ll drive, of course, and you can sit in the passenger side. I’m the most sober out of the three of us- and I promise I’ll take good care of your car. I’ll uber back with Julian.”

Muriel furrowed his brow a little, leaning up and cocking his head. “It’s so late…?” he murmured, words clumsy. If one had been listening close enough, they might have even heard a whine somewhere in his voice -- but luckily Muriel’s low vocals concealed such a thing well enough to keep it hidden. 

“I mean… if you have to work it’s fine but I can drive… you don’t want to drive my car.” Muriel sleepily rubbed one of his eyes with his palm, figuring he should have woken up some if they were leaving. “It’s too… bad for you.”

Inanna gave a huff, squirming back up into the seat so she could sit next to him and press her cool nose against his oddly warm cheek.   
‘Drunk’ she said so simply in Muriel’s head. ‘Can’t drive.’ 

He shrugged a little, turning to her with a tired smile. “And you want to sit in the back with… Julian?” 

She whined a little, shaking her head so her ears flapped and her collar jingled. All she replied with was a simple ‘If I have to’ and another press of her nose to Muriel’s cheek. 

“Inanna says its fine,” he mumbled. “So I guess it’s fine with me…”

“And you’re definitely not driving, so it has to be fine,” Asra said, looking over his shoulder. “Ilya! Come over here!” 

And, after a moment, Julian began to stumble over. He bumped into someone, apologising a few times with his slurred voice as if he knew the risks of a fight, soon managing to get over to the table they were sat at. He had his hands on the table, slumping a little, looking at the two of them. 

 

“Are you enjoying your drink?” he asked Muriel, bringing his own tankard to his lips and sipping it. Asra just kept his eyes on the two of them, frowning, ready to step in if anything happens that could make Muriel uncomfortable.

Muriel shrugged, looking back to his glass. “Asra told me to stop,” he sighed, slumping his shoulders a bit. “I think I’m drunk…” 

Inanna corrected him with a boop of her snout, huffing a judging breath against his neck. Muriel had to contain a snort, smiling again as he playfully pushed her away. She shook her head again, ears flapping and her tail beginning to thump against the plush of the booth seat. Inanna pushed forwards, clambering her front two paws onto his lap and attempted to lick his face -- but Muriel set a hand on her chest, holding her back as he tried to contain his urge to laugh. He bit back giggles with a smile, using his other hand to try and hide it as he mumbled for her to stop. 

Asra had turned his focus to Muriel by then, a warm smile on his lips as he watched the blush rise to his cheeks and the obvious biting back laughter. It made his chest feel light, just seeing Muriel so happy.

Julian, however, didn’t seem to pick up on the lightness of the atmosphere.  
“Hey, Asra told you to stop?” he asked, grinning as he let his arm settle on Muriel’s shoulder, leaning on him, seeming a little surprised that Muriel didn’t even lean at his weight. All that muscle wasn’t just for show. “Are you kidding? This dude- Asra drinks more than anyone else I know! He used to drink more than I did! His casual drinking was- was half the bar!”

Unlike Muriel, Julian couldn’t seem to contain his laughter and covered his mouth with one hand, having endless stories and memories running through his head.

The one that settled on his tongue, however, was a fond memory from years ago, one that he started talking about regardless of how dated or how the alcohol might twist the truthfulness of the tale.  
“So Asra and I, after… hours, hours of drinking, wandered down to the docks. A nice spot, I think. Empty. Somewhere special for me, that I only took a couple people to see…”

His eyes flickered to Asra, who cocked a brow and frowned, as if he didn’t know where the story was going. He didn’t tell Julian to stop, though, which was much more permission than he normally got for his thrilling tales.

“We were feeling a little… rowdy, per se, and we sat at the edge of the docs with a bottle each… we were drinking, talking, kissing mostly- and let me tell you, if you ever dip your toes in that pond, he is a damn good kisser-”

Asra cleared his throat loudly to put Julian back on track. Julian caught on and kept talking.  
“But we, uh, were messing about mostly. Talking was the least of what we did, but when we got a little rowdier, a little more entwined, so to speak, Asra put his hand on my chest and-” Julian grinned, giggles bubbling up around his words. “And he pushed me right in! He leant forward and put weight on me and knocked me right off into the water!”

Asra’s brows furrowed and he murmured something about not remembering that story, but Julian wasn’t done.  
“When I resurfaced, he was laughing like he’d never seen anything funnier! He reached out to help me and when I took his hand, I pulled him in!”

Blushing, Asra pushed up from his seat a bit -- likely to shed some light on Julian’s drunken storytelling -- but before he could get a word out, he was cut off by a snort from across the table. 

Muriel didn't know why he laughed. Any other day of the week and any other mindset and Julian wouldn't have been the slightest bit amusing, especially all leaned up against him in such a way. But, for some reason, something he said seemed to strike a chord of sorts in Muriel’s tipsy system, and all attempts at forcing back a laugh seemed to fail. One snort and a cracked smile, and his defenses broke -- allowing a collection of giggles to leave his rare grin. 

“That… that doesn’t sound like Asra,” he laughed, shaking his head a little. Muriel turned to look at him, his breath still slightly hitched with giggles. He didn't try to hide his smile with his hand that time. Nor his hair, for that matter. “Is that true?”

Asra had seen the way Muriel lit up when he started laughing. He saw the blush on his cheeks and the smile on his lips as he laughed, the sudden lightness of his voice when he spoke through his bubbly giggles. He wasn’t sure if what he felt toward Muriel was just some kind of a crush but nobody had made his heart feel so light in his chest since…

He glanced at Julian.

Since then, he supposed.

“Yeah. I think so- I remember it vaguely. I definitely remember the splash of cold water and the alcohol. I think… what did we do after that? Did we go back to Mazelinkas or to mine? And I was still hiding out at the shop back then, wasn’t I?” He leant on his hand, keeping his eyes on Julian.  
“Oh! Yeah! Oh, the things we did in that shop-”  
“And that’s the end of the conversation!” Asra announced, cutting Julian off- speaking loud enough to talk over Julian but being careful not to be too loud and risk upsetting Muriel.

With Julian’s loud voice, it was a hard balance to find.

“We should get going,” Asra said, glancing from Muriel to Julian. “You’re coming with us- you’re too drunk to drive, but you have to sit in the back of the truck. Inanna should be able to stop you from walking off the back of it for whatever reason.”

Julian nodded, still grinning as his eyes flickered between Asra and Muriel.  
“Alright,” he said, pushing himself back to his feet and running his gloved fingertips along Muriel’s shoulder. Muriel blinked, eyes flicking to watch Julian’s hand as a healthy blush began to heat his face. “If I have to go, I’m going to get some more to drink on the way.”

Asra pushed himself to his feet, grabbing Julian’s wrist to keep him from drifting toward the bar.  
“Let’s go,” he said to Muriel, smiling warmly. “Do you think you can stand? Julian and I can hold you up if you can’t, but I’m not sure how much use Julian will be for that…”

Muriel, his hand on his shoulder where Julian had touched him, shrugged and nodded his head.   
“I’m not that drunk…” he sighed, the smile all but faded -- all there had been was a slight quirk of his lips from each time Inanna tried to kiss his face. “I can stand.”

He began to scoot out of the booth, bumping his knees against the table in the process. He pushed up from his seat, and then up onto his feet. The moment he stood up straight, however, the alcohol seemed to pummel him full force. 

His hand, luckily, had been on the table when his knees tried to buckle, his head once again as light as air, but still weighed by that ball of lead in his brain -- like that had been all that was in there, causing his head to loll a bit on his neck. Muriel gave a low groan, lifting his hand to his face and rubbing his eyes with his palm again. Inanna slinked from the booth and settled down at his side, whining and licking his free hand for support. 

“I might… be that drunk…” he mumbled into his hand. “But I’m okay. I don’t need… I don’t need help…” 

Regardless, Asra wrapped one arm around his waist and began to lead Muriel to the door, bringing him a little closer. He still dragged Julian along by his wrist behind them.  
“I’ll help you anyway,” he said warmly. “I’ll always help, whether you need it or not.”


	6. A Bloody Office

“You do know how late it is, right?” 

Asra’s voice was impatient. A complete and utter juxtaposition with his gentleness from earlier in the night when he dropped Muriel off at his apartment. Then, his voice had been quiet, accompanied with a smile as he watched Muriel try to sober up a little in the passenger seat -- mumbling directions to Asra with his face in his hand, cracking the occasional smile Asra had come to know as a rare pleasure. He had nodded and assured Muriel everything was fine after every nervous apology all the way to the old apartment complex somewhere in the very heart of South End. He had made very sure with a concerned furrow of his brow that Muriel would be okay getting up to his room, and then smiled warmly when he said goodbye -- making sure to tuck his hair one final time before the night ended and Inanna guided Muriel up into the apartment building. 

The instant Muriel was gone, however, Asra’s patiences began to thin. 

That’s why he found himself bitter and grouchy in the presence of Lucio. After such a night, all Asra wanted to do was go home with Faust and sit up in bed, his head cupped in his hand and the image of Muriel’s smile hanging dreamily in his mind. Instead, he had to Uber to the Palace, all while attempting to sober up Julian in the back seat. Instead, he had to stand in front of Lucio’s desk at nearly twelve in the morning, the buzz from the alcohol already faded into a painful, thrumming headache. A headache he was sure would get worse, subjected to a voice such as Lucio’s.

“You could have given us a better warning,” Asra continued to grumble. “We were out drinking.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry that my business emergency, which the two of you are obligated to respond to as your job entails, had to disrupt a night of drinking. If there’s anything I can do to make it up to you when your liver’s fail I’ll be sure to put it on my to-do list.” Lucio leant over the desk slightly, learning on his human hand, drumming his sharp golden fingernails on the desk. He was irritated- that much was obvious. It was a dangerous game to play, provoking him when he was already frustrated, when he was on his very last nerve.

He might have spent a lot of his time angry, but being this angry was rare. Only once or twice had Asra or Julian had the displeasure of being in his company when he was like this. Julian was more familiar with the negative consequences, though, for the reasons of him being more expendable than Asra. He wasn’t inconsequential enough to be wasted without reason, or sent on a mission Lucio knew he wouldn’t come back from, but he was less urgently needed than Asra was.

So he faced the poor temper more often.

“Uh, Count,” Julian began, his words noticeably slurred through his instinctive stutter. Lucio’s eyes narrowed.

 

“Shut up, Jules. I want you two to just do your goddamn jobs. There’s someone in the other room that has a lot of information that we need to get. That you need to get. I’m not going to get my hands dirty.”

Julian let out some drunk murmur, his cheeks warm with embarrassment after having been snapped at so sharply. He always shut up so obediently whenever Lucio snapped at him, it was something that Lucio liked. That meant that it was naturally something Asra hated.

“You can use whatever items you want, whatever tools you want, you can say whatever the hell you want, but I want all the information we can get out of him and I want it by dawn.” Lucio got to his feet, walking around the desk and standing before the two of them- taller than Asra by about two heads (thanks to his heels, mostly) and shorter than Julian by about a head’s height. 

He looked up at Julian.  
“You’re a doctor,” he said. “So you know where to target and how. And you,” his attention fixed on Asra. “You know all kinds of malicious spells. Use as many of them as you want. There are no limits here. This inferior is so low level that neither of you would know him, but he has been stealing from me and distributing my information. He’s a rat, a snitch, and must be punished as such. I have no tolerance for people like them. Thankfully, though, as I have people to do my bidding and plenty of code words, so there were no crimes that could be tied directly to me.”

Julian frowned.  
“A rat?” he asked, his attention fixing on Lucio, brows furrowing- but when Lucio met his eyes with a glare he went red again and averted his gaze.  
“Someone has been tipping off the police. You know how desperately Noddy has been trying to take me down for so long. One wrong word could tie together all the little scraps of information she has and she’d have reason to get a warrant. You find out everything that was given up and you find out when, who it was told to, and what is going to be done with the information. Then, and only then, can you stop. If it isn’t done by dawn then neither of you will be paid for this.”

He grit his teeth, going back to his desk and pulling the cork from a new bottle of wine, pouring himself a glass. He brought it to his lips, the glass settled in the palm of his metal hand, the sharp fingertips against his glass making an uncomfortable scratching noise as they curled around it. 

“Am I understood?”

Asra settled his eyes closed and reached a hand up to rub the bridge of his nose, pinching it between his fingers to try and ease his slight headache.   
“Sure thing, Count,” he grumbled, fluttering his eyes open and looking up at Lucio. “But we should still get paid for the trip. And for the time. And for all the energy I’m gonna waste breaking his kneecaps. Make it half pay if we don’t get anything, or your short your best magician and stuck with the drunk doctor.” 

“Quarter pay,” Lucio defended, gritting his teeth. He brought the glass to his lips, his eyes flicking between them. “One third if you get some information. How’s that? A compromise? A quarter for nothing, less if I’m as irritated as I am now. A third for some information. Full pay for all the information I want.” 

Julian didn’t argue, but that was just to be expected. Asra rolled his eyes, but he bit his tongue too. Lucio didn’t wait for a response, knocking back his drink before he returned behind his desk.  
“Leave,” he murmured. “You’ll know which room you’re needed in, Ludovico is outside it, and you two will do your damn job or face a punishment.”

He began to top up his glass, but a thought crossed his mind and he smiled a little.  
“Oh, and Ludovico will lose pay for however the two of you fail. If anything happens with our… problematic little rat, if he goes missing for any reason, as you two seem to have a history of your targets getting… lost. Ludo will face a punishment. That should be a little more motivation for the two of you. Whether or not you like Ludo should be irrelevant- you know the poor thing can barely afford to feed himself with how much he’s indebted himself to me. Even losing a single penny… oh, it could kill him.”

Asra grit his teeth at that, a flush of anger eating away at his nerves and veins like fire through a web of gasoline.

“The prisoner will be our responsibility,” Asra muttered suddenly, stopping Julian in his tracks with a firm hand over his chest. He tipped his head forward, eyes narrowed and lips curled down into a curt sort of frown. “Ludovico isn’t qualified or trained to handle a prisoner of such importance. We are. Have him go do something worth his pay grade.”

Lucio didn’t have time for this petty arguing and muttered spite. He didn’t have time to waste- but he supposed that he would be content if the money he was offering to pay would stay in his pocket. So he argued.  
“He’s doing exactly what he is supposed to be doing. He doesn’t need to help, he’s just going to stand outside and make sure that you won’t let yet another snitch escape. Need I remind you that-”

“Sir, with all due respect, losing your precious Scourge doesn’t mean you have a pass to treat all your other guards like garbage,” Asra snapped, cutting Lucio’s tight tone off with his own growled one. His voice lowered all the more at the word ‘Scourge’ -- he growled it past his clenched teeth as though the mere thought of Lucio’s ruthless bodyguard disgusted him. 

Asra didn't know much about the Scourge. Just that he was big and he was mean and he was ruthlessly savage. Those were the rumors, anyways. Rumors always seemed to dance along the Palace’s guards from what the Scourge did to what happened to him. Some people said he left the city, some people said he was arrested. Asra had even heard stories going as far as to claim the man was dead. All anyone really knew was that Lucio wanted him back -- and that, for some reason, wherever the Scourge was (if he was alive), Lucio was getting no luck. 

Which was incredibly selfish, if Asra had to say so himself -- he had a firm belief if one is to commit to joining a mob, he has no choice but to live with that. There might have been times he regretted such a bloody job, such as the instance back at the bar with Muriel, but he could never leave. He wasn’t that selfish. He certainly wasn’t that much of a coward, either.

Of course bringing up the Scourge were... rather dangerous waters to tread. Lucio was still sore about losing his best guard. He took out most of his frustration on Ludovico and Blumilla, but there was nothing stopping Lucio from taking it out on him instead. Asra continued anyways. He knew his limits when dealing with Lucio, and… he had certainly said worse before. 

“You can dock my pay and my pay only if anything happens, but you leave Ludovico out of it,” Asra said with a firm nod. “It’s not like anything will happen -- when have you known me to lose a prisoner?” He cracked a smirk, eyes flickering with a mischievous sparkle of magic. “Am I understood, Count Lucio?” 

“Would you like me to create a list? I’ve got all incidents of betrayals and failed trust listed, just waiting until I can give your name a nice red stamp to say you’ve been terminated. If anything happens to this prisoner, or any prisoner from now on, whether they’re misplaced or just don’t quite give up the information we want them to give up within your allotted time frame, you will earn no money from your job. Jules will lose half his pay, and Ludo, as per your damned request, will keep all his money.”

Lucio’s eyes flicked to Julian, who seemed about as uncomfortable as ever, and he offered a warm smile.  
“Doesn’t this sound like a nice compromise to you?” he asked, liking the way Julian seemed to jolt and fix his posture (despite how his body swayed with intoxication) at the simple call of authority. “And it means that you’ll be keeping more money in the event of a mistake.”

There were a few moments of hesitation, Julian’s uncovered eye flicking from the floor to Asra and all about the room before settling back on Lucio.  
“Yes, Count,” he said decisively, and Lucio could almost see the effort he put into avoiding slurring his words. The mere display of inebriation would have made him grimace and look away out of shame, but the obedience seemed to give him more pride in the moment for the simple disgust to overtake.

“Perfect. Then we’re in agreement.” He didn’t give Asra a chance to argue about it. He should have known that he’d only end up putting himself in a worse situation if he didn’t comply with the initial decision, and he’d only wanted to encourage them by threatening to dock their pay.

It didn’t matter, though- he’d be keeping more money this way.  
“Go. You have until dawn, when your dear friend Ludovico will let you know your time is up. I want names, addresses, and as many details as you can decipher through the screams or whatever else.”

Asra grumbled something about already having enough money, and nodded his head towards the door, reaching his hand up to Julian’s arm and tugging him along. They left Lucio’s office without another word, Asra’s eyes narrowed and lips curled into a scowl as he dragged Julian along the hall and to their usual room. As Lucio promised, Ludovico had been there, standing guard, his eyes tired and heavy lidded. Asra stepped up to him, moving away from Julian to clap a hand on Ludo’s shoulder.

“Hey buddy,” he sighed, offering a weak smile. “Late night, huh?”

Ludovici have a low grumble. “Damn straight,” he sighed. reaching a hand up to rub the back of his neck. “Try to get this done quick, yeah? I haven’t slept right in two days — I was kind of counting on a nap.”

Asra laughed. “Don’t worry,” he hummed. “You know is — Ilya and I will get this guy talking in fifteen minutes. Right Julian?”

“Hm? Oh! Yes!” Julian said, giving Asra a grin as he gestured to the door, giving quite a dramatic bow. “After you, mister Alnazar. The sooner we’re in, the sooner we’re out, if you catch my drift?” 

He straightened back up and pulled the door open, stepping aside to let Asra inside.  
“Feel free to rest up out here, Ludo. We’ve got everything under control, so relax! Sleep! Do whatever you want to do! We’ll be waking you up on our way out.”

Ludovico gave a nod and a thankful groan, reaching his hand up and pushing it through his hair as he let his posture slacken. Asra gave him a sad smile, and squeezed his shoulder as he stepped past and slipped past the doorway. He didn’t even look at the form settled in the very middle of the room — the form of a man tied to a chair, tending as he lifted his head at the squeak of the door. Asra just moved to the table at the side of the door, eyeing the spread of tools laid out on a black cloth. From scalpels to knives to hammers. Asra wouldn’t have much use for anything aside from the scalpels, of course — his magic was enough for him.

The door closed as Julian stepped in, sauntering up the table to look at their supplies over Asra’s shoulder. Julian parted his lips, breath stuttering as though he’d been ready to say something, but a voice from behind cut him off before he could even start any sort of sound. 

“Well, you guys are quite a… picture, I guess,” a low, gruff sort of voice said, slick with sarcasm.

Asra sighed, rolling his eyes. So they had a smart ass that time — those were always the worst subject to interrogate. Them, or the folks Asra liked to call waterworks. There was nothing worse than trying to get through someone blubbering with tears during a round of torture. 

He turned around though, entertaining their prisoner. The room was dark, but Asra could see well enough — he could definitely see dark, narrowed eyes glinting at him in the shadow. The man in the chair seemed to glare back at him, head ducked and brow hatefully furrowed over his angry eyes. He was… big. Muscular and tall. He barely seemed to fit in the little metal chair Lucio had provided him with.

Asra tried his best not to make the connection in his head — but it was too late. Muriel was on his mind in a heartbeat. First it had been a simple ‘he might be as tall as Muriel’, but then it had tumbled into something different. It had tumbled into thoughts of Muriel’s laugh and smile… his apologies and the way he blushed when Asra tucked his hair behind his ear…

And then he realized thinking about Muriel wasn’t exactly the best thing to do during a round of torture. 

In fact, it might have even made him feel a little guilty. Not for the man in the chair, of course, but for Muriel. Whether it had been because the man reminded him of Muriel, or the simple fact that Muri wouldn’t ever forgive him for doing such a thing — Asra didn’t know. 

“Oh yeah,” the man grumbled, interrupting Asra’s thoughts. He rolled his eyes and looked off to the side, shifting a bit uncomfortably in his chair. “You’re real intimidating. That cotton candy hairdo really strikes fear into my heart.” 

Asra scowled. “Lot of talk from a dude tied down to chair,” he said, reaching an unconscious hand to touch at his hair. “Look, man — I’m not in the mood for this. Let’s make both of our lives a little easier and-”

The man cut him off. “Oh my God,” he groaned, hanging his head as he drew out the word ‘God’. “You really thought that was gonna work?” 

“I was just hoping,” Asra mumbled, rubbing his eyes with his palm. He turned to look at Julian, his shoulders slumped. “Anything you wanna say before we start? If not, just pass me the scalpel.”

“I want to know about that big man you brought to the bar,” Julian said, a flirty lilt to his voice as he took a scalpel, passing it over to Asra. He turned to the man in the chair. “I’ve never seen him before. Will you be bringing him about the Rowdy Raven again? He was… he was a lot of man.”

Julian hummed a little, beginning to slide off his gloves so that he could wear a leather pair, one that wouldn’t be stained with blood when worn. His other ones he liked a lot more, and he didn’t want them tainted with any evidence. He didn’t want to go through the effort of getting another pair, either.

“I mean, he was a lot more man than I’ve seen in a while,” he continued, pressing on even when he knew he probably shouldn’t. He was too drunk to care by then, and if Asra got pissed off at him he wouldn’t be the one getting smacked.

Asra made a face. “When I asked for anything you wanted to say, I meant to the prisoner,” he said quietly, narrowing his eyes. He turned away from the man in the chair, who offered a curt little snicker at Julian’s drunken slurring. “Muriel is none of your business. He certainly doesn’t need anymore of your influence. He’s got enough on his plate -- a car mechanic in fucking South End doesn’t need an alcoholic best friend.” 

“Muriel the car mechanic? Sounds like a bad beginning to a joke.” 

Asra grit his teeth, his eyes snapping wide at the sarcastic drawl from the prisoner behind him. It took him barely an instant to turn and get close enough to lash out. He hit the man across the face with one balled, unprepared fist, his knuckles slamming into the prisoner’s rather solid cheekbone. The man in the chair gave a low grunt while Asra gave a sharp hiss of pain -- his knuckles and fingers laced with a pressurized sting that made his nose crinkle and his eyes squeezed tight. He shook his hand as though he hoped to shake off the pain, forcing himself to ignore the low laugh from the man he’d just punched. 

“Was it something I said?” the man hummed, one of his eyes pinched close. There had been a gash where Asra’s knuckles had split his skin, a steady stream of blood already trailing its way to the curve of his jaw. 

Asra scowled at him, brandishing the scalpel -- the reflection of the dull light glinted threateningly as he did so.   
“I think it’s best you just keep quiet,” he said, eyes dark and narrowed. With a low sigh, he turned back to Julian, rubbing his hand, his lips still curled into a pained scowl. “As I was saying, just leave him alone, okay? You almost slipped up and told him about what I really do. Incase it wasn’t obvious, he doesn’t know.” 

“He doesn’t?” Julian asked, his words still slurred. He set down his gloves, turning to look at Asra. He’d picked up on Muriel being a sensitive topic from how hard that impact had been. “That’s… that’s not too smart. I’m not one to lecture… but…”

He lost his point. That or he just didn’t want to continue.

Instead, he grabbed Asra’s wrists and decided to divert his attention elsewhere. He took out a semi-elastic wrap for Asra’s hands- as to reduce the risk of fracturing his knuckles when throwing a punch. He hooked Asra’s thumb with it and wrapped it around the back of his hand so it would tighten when his hand curled into a fist, taking it three times around the wrist, then three around the hand before he wrapped it around Asra’s fingers. Being a doctor- licenced or not- was good for times like this. His experience in tightly bandaging wounds meant that hand wrapping was pretty easy. 

He hooked the wrap around the pinkie once before hooking it around his other three fingers. He wrapped it around the back of the hand so it made an x, repeating this before wrapping the thumb tightly. All that was left was to wrap the hand a couple more times before finishing the wrap at the wrist.

Even with his drunkenness, he worked cautiously and with steadier hands than anticipated. He repeated the process on the other hand, even if it took a while longer than it needed to, even if it meant that he took away from the interrogation for a while.

Even if he took a little longer than usual just to savour feeling Asra’s hand in his again.

“You’re going to hurt yourself if you aren’t careful,” he said to Asra, his voice quieter than usual, less slurred. “More than normal, anyway.”

He pulled back, though he couldn’t help how his fingers trailed along Asra’s skin while he did. He was quick to turn away from Asra, taking his gloves and starting to tug them on, biting his lip to divert his attention from Asra and, hopefully, to soothe the vibrant blush from his cheeks.  
“He’ll find out someday, Asra. Whether he’s just your friend or… or not a friend, he’ll find out. And he’ll either be upset at you for not telling him or it’ll be because you felt too guilty to keep it to yourself any longer.

Was he overstepping? Probably. It was one of his talents- giving his input on areas he wasn’t remotely qualified to comment on- yet still he hadn’t learned to stop himself.

“My advice is either to stop talking to him or be honest. Sitting in the middle won’t work for long.”

Asra had been looking down at his bandaged hand, his cheeks a little flushed from embarrassment the whole time Julian had wrapped it. However, the moment he realized Julian had been attempting to give him advice -- relationship advice, at that -- he lifted his head and narrowed his eyes. He balled his hands into fists, any rational idea he could have felt pertaining Julian’s rather thoughtful words flushing from his system at the absurdity of it all. 

Julian wasn’t someone he could listen to when it came to things like that. Asra knew first hand how his relationships went. How harmful they were and how long the sting lasted. He didn't need any pointers from a man like him. 

“And is that why you cut off everyone you meet?” he asked, voice growing a little cooler. “I’m not telling him anything -- forgive me for not wanting to take advice from a man who can’t even look his own damn sister in the eye.” 

The man in the chair stayed silent, but his eyes had widened and his smile slackened a bit, attentive stare turning Julian’s way as though he awaited the comeback. 

Julian had gotten tense the second that Asra had started speaking to him in that tone. The second that that malice settled in the air, his shoulders had squared and his teeth had grit. That low blow, though, that snide mention of Portia, it sent a shudder of cold through his body in shock- followed quickly by fire shooting through his veins out of pure rage that Asra had had the nerve to say that to him.

“Leave her out of it!” he shouted, his tone far more malicious than intended, but he didn’t care to recall the tone of his voice. In fact, with the alcohol only amplifying the rage that surged through him, he even pulled back his arm and had turned to strike Asra for that.

He didn’t, though. 

He wasn’t sure what stopped him, what made him reconsider, but one moment he’d been fully prepared to slam his fist into Asra’s cheek or to grab him by his collar and hiss out every threat that came to mind, and the next he’d felt nothing but a dull acceptance.

“You know as well as anyone else that that’s only part of it.”

He turned to look at the man in the chair, gritting his teeth as he saw somewhere that he could direct his anger toward, someone that it would be productive to attack.

Someone that it wouldn’t be suicide to attack in a room of weapons waiting to be used.

He grabbed the first knife that his hand found- a sharp sort of kitchen knife- and swung it down without much thought. It slid smoothly through the centre of the man’s hand without much resistance, like a hot knife through butter. He cried out, half from shock, half from pain -- his eyes shooting open wide before snapping shut. 

“I think we should just get on with the job,” he said after a few moments, his breathing a little uneven as he put more pressure onto the knife, which was now firmly wedged in the arm of the chair beneath the man’s hand.

The man in the chair gave a groan, squirming a little in his binds -- his head turned away from the knife and his hand like he didn't want to look at it. Asra watched, trying to ignore the malice in Julian’s tone or that rather violent start to a punch. Of course, he had taken it too far. Between the late night and the talk of Muriel on such a bleak and guilt inspiring job, Asra could have confirmed his nerves had been successfully boiled. 

But it wasn’t like he could have taken any of it back. 

The only thing he could do was take his frustration out on that God damned man in the chair. 

Asra grumbled an agreement to Julian’s previous huff, and started forwards -- stopping beside the man and his chair. His breath had been a little strained, the fingers of his injured hands twitching. Asra didn't blame him for the occasional whimper that would slip between his shakier breath. A knife in the hand so abruptly had to have hurt. Luckily, Asra decided to take his attention away from it, lifting the blade of the scalpel and pressing it to the side of the man’s face. 

He tensed, eyes opening and flicking up to Asra, once again narrowed with hate. Asra didn't press hard with the blade, and instead used it to tip the man’s head to the side, the surgical steel sharp and threatening against his already bloodied skin. 

“I need names, numbers, and locations of everyone you’ve been talking to,” Asra said, voice low and stoic -- without any of the emotion from before. “Don’t make this harder than it needs to be. You’ve already ruined a perfectly good hand.” 

The man, somehow, cracked a smile. “No worries,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “I’m ambidextrous.” 

Asra grit his teeth, and pressed a little harder with the scalpel, dragging it down so it just began to cut the skin. “Don’t test me, asshole,” he growled.   
“You’re stuck with me until you get the info,” the man said, his voice a little strained with pain through his smirk. “I’m going to test you until daybreak.” 

Asra pressed as deep as he could and slashed the scalpel down the man’s face. He cried out again as blood flushed sluggishly through the deep cut curled around his jawline. However, when Asra turned around, flicking the blood off of his blade, the man began to laugh. Every giggle made Asra’s neveres twist tighter, his hands balling into fists. 

“Shut him up,” he sighed to Julian, shaking his head as he moved back to the table for a bigger blade. 

“Wh-” Julian turned to look at Asra. “With a gag or with violence?”

He always regretted drinking when he was called to work. His mind was too fuzzy for him to make sense of half the things he was told, whether he was told them by Lucio or by Asra. Or anyone who worked there, in fact.

When Asra refused to answer, though, he decided that a gag wouldn’t make sense as they wouldn’t be able to hear even if he did want to give up the information. Instead, he just grabbed hold of the knife that had already been buried in the man’s hand and began to wiggle it, watching blood begin to pour from the wound and spill over the edges of his hand. The wound was getting bigger with each movement, so it would no longer be stemming most of the blood that seeped from the cuts. If the bleeding grew excessive, he knew how to bandage it, but that wasn’t his main concern for now.

“You’ll get tired eventually,” he said, pushing the blade in deeper, watching the man’s features contorted with pain as the wound grew bigger and bled heavier. “You’ll get tired and you’ll want to give in just to save yourself. I’ve seen it so many fucking times. I could go for days at a time without needing a break to sleep, but you’ll be stretched so thin that you’ll want to give up just so you can rest. Provided I haven’t cut off your eyelids by then to stop you.”

He pushed the knife in a little more, leaving it almost buried to the hilt in the chair. His eyes had settled on the hammer sat on the table- a standard hammer for standard household tasks. That was why there was a neat container of nails sat beside it  
“And I already know exactly what I want to do next.” 

The man had his head turned away again, eyes screwed tightly shut, his giggles reduced to haggard breaths lined with whimpers. He seemed to be biting back the urge to cry out, but every time Julian was faster with the twist or the turn, a fast, pained sound would escape his lips. He didn't speak again until a moment or so after Julian had stopped playing with the knife in his hand, letting the flow of blood bead all the way to the floor in a neat puddle by his shoe. When the man did speak again, to Asra’s frustration, his trembling lips had been curled into a smile. 

“You act like I haven’t seen this a hundred fucking times,” the man said, laughing again. “I know the tactics. I know what you’re gonna say and when you’re gonna say it. I also know what pissing off my captors looks like, and fuck you guys are pissed.” He fluttered his eyes open, still grinning as though there hadn’t been a prickle of pained tears welling there. “I know what you’re gonna do to those people I talk to. They’ve got families man. So you can sit here and poke me all night long-- I’m not snitching.” 

Asra growled when he turned around, abandoning the table of tools. His hands were hot with magic when he lifted them to point.  
“You don’t care about their families!” Asra shouted, stepping up to him and placing two firm hands on the man’s shoulder. “You just care about the money they’re gonna give you.” 

The man squirmed beneath the buzz of Asra’s magic, his features drawing up, a deep divot of disgust forming between the set of his brow. Before he could try and stop it, the memory of Muriel commenting on the feeling of his magic struck him in an instant. Like a rod of hot lightning, pierced through his stomach. Asra had to pull his hands away at both the man’s reaction and his, wide eyes flicking down to his open palms as the slight, prickling glow of magic seeped from his skin. 

“I already got paid, asshole!” the man in the chair snapped back. His tone was a little more emotional before, as though Asra’s magic had stirred him up a little more than the literal torture. “The money is already right where I want it to be. Right now, I’m only protecting the people I work for. Who the hell are you protecting? Lucio?” 

Asra failed to respond a few moments, still recovering from the burn of his stomach. 

The man laughed. “That’s right,” he said, leaning up some. “You’re protecting no one. All you care about is a big buck from the fuckin’ Count. As if you don’t have enough…” 

Sighing deeply, Asra shook his head a little, turning around and bringing both hands up to his head -- rubbing at his eyes, and then his temples, and then combing his fingers up through his bangs and up his hair. What was that? What was that he had been feeling? It was like the pang from the lightning bolt had seeped down into his blood, and the sting was circulating through his system. That hot, electric guilt. Asra had never felt that guilty on a job before. Never. Was it the man? Was he just tired? Was he just unnerved from the near fight with Julian?

Was it… Muriel?

Whatever it was Asra hoped desperately it was anything but that last one. 

He heard Julian cautiously say his name from behind, and Asra gave a groan, slumping his shoulders and letting his hands fall to his sides.   
“I need a break,” he grumbled. “And I need my fuckin’ snake. She’s in my office here -- I just need to… to go talk to her just for a second. You alright here on your own?” 

“What? No. I’m- you look shaken, Asra. I’m not going to stay here if you’re not, not with this fucking guy,” he muttered. The man in the chair offered a little snicker at the comment. “I’ll need a few seconds, but I’ll be out in a moment. I’ll see you in your office.”

Asra grumbled his response, but his skin was suddenly crawling -- he needed to leave the room. No matter what Julian said or what he had to agree to, Asra would do it. He left quickly, slamming the door shut behind him and stepping out into the guardless hall. It seemed as though Ludovico had taken Julian’s advice and had snuck away for a nap. 

Julian nodded and turned to face the man again, taking the hammer and a small handful of nails. Of course, he’d already made his mark on the man’s left arm, so naturally he wanted to continue there to leave the rest of the body free to fuck up later. He didn’t say goodbye to Asra while he left, just placing a nail against the back of the man’s wrist and lifting the hammer.

This was possibly one of his favourite methods. Simply because all it took was one hit for the pain to kick in, and two for it to be immeasurable. There was little to no bleeding if he moved quickly enough, if the nails weren’t moved about.

And with one swift movement, he’d hit the nail and buried it fully into the man’s hand. He screamed, jolting with shock and pain. Julian didn’t even spare the man a glance, only having about four nails in his hand. He moved one to rest just below the elbow, on the man’s forearm, and hit the nail three times this time to bury it in. 

He repeated this. Three times, he hit the nail and buried it into the man’s arm, leaving five shiny nails buried in his forearm. Shining in a neat line. Then, seeming a little more content, did he drop the hammer on the floor and turn back to the door. The man was trembling behind him, his head hung and his shoulders slumped -- low groans easing from his lips. Julian didn't care. He needed to go to find Asra. He wanted to make sure he was okay, even with the hideous things said earlier.

“Just… reconsider sharing the information,” he muttered to the man. “I can try and talk Lucio out of whatever he’d do to the others, but I don’t want to have to be here all night for you.”

One of those groans shifted into a growling start to something, but Julian didn’t wait for the response, just turning and leaving, following after Asra. He walked down a corridor or two, knocking on the door to Asra’s office before pushing it open, not waiting for permission because he knew he wouldn’t get it.  
“What had you so shaken?” he asked the second he stepped inside, shutting the door behind him.

Asra had been sitting on the edge of his desk, one leg up against the surface and the other dangling over the side. Faust was curled around his arm, retrieved from the heated rock Asra kept in her own special set up over by the corner and nestled comfortingly up his forearm. Her nose was pressed against his forehead before Julian came in, leaning back for the occasional flick of her tongue. Asra had been speaking to her nice and quietly, but he cut himself off when the knocks had sounded from his door, and Julian had let himself in. 

“I’m sorry I said that,” he murmured, avoiding the question. His tired eyes were still focused on Faust, who looked up at him with sad eyes as she tried to comfort her magician. “About Portia. I… I don’t know what came over me, Ilya.” 

Julian offered up a little smile, averting his eyes. His shoulders shrugged.  
“I know,” he said, pushing away from the door and moving to stand by Asra. “It’s… It’s alright. I know you didn’t mean it.”

He turned around, letting his other leg drop over the edge of his desk so he sat on it properly. It wasn’t a very big desk -- and his office hadn’t been a very bg office. It was nothing like Lucio’s. The windows were smaller and the walls weren’t decorated with anything of the sort. The only things that made the room scream Asra were the setup for Faust in the back corner, and a few trinkets spread about his desk. But Asra didn't really care -- it was rare he was in his office, anyways. 

“I… I’m just tired. And that asshole in there isn’t making it any easier,” he said, finally figuring out a way to respond to Julian’s first question. “Doesn’t help that I slipped up and said that stuff about Muriel in front of the guy. And… it doesn’t help that I can’t stop thinking about Muriel, either. It’s just… shaking me up, as you put it.” 

“I want to be back in the bar,” he murmured. “I can’t stand being here and getting sober. I don’t want to come here and have to beat up some guy for whatever reasons. I might as well tell Lucio to cut off my pay- I’m close to just leaving and getting back to the Rowdy Raven.”

He sighed a little, tugging one hand through his messy hair to pull it from his face, his eyes flicking to Asra.   
“I think Lucio chose the worst possible time to call us both in. Any other day would have been fine but…” He sighed, folding his arms over his chest. “Did you watch the news today?”

Asra furrowed his brow and shook his head. “No,” he said, leaning up a little and pushing off of the desk. “But I could check right now.”

He lifted his hand and let Faust slither up and around his shoulders as he turned and stepped back behind his desk. He wiggled the mouse of his work computer, and waited for the system to come back to life -- typing in his passcode before searching the web for their go-to news website. It was the most popular news channel and broadcast in the entirety of Vesuvia. They had everything and anything someone in the mafia would need to get by without too much paranoia. 

The irony, of course, was that it was also the police departments favorite news channel as well. 

There were a handful of videos displayed on the home screen of their website, but from the thumbnails alone, Asra didn't have to ask what story or video had been the one Julian was referring to. 

“Oh, Portia,” Asra murmured, both guilt and realization lacing his quiet tone. He moved the mouse over and clicked the video without even reading the title, waiting for the website to direct him to it. He leaned back a little once he clicked fullscreen, and the image of Portia in all her police department uniformed and badged glory filled the monitor. 

“Hello Vesuvia, this is Lieutenant Portia Devorak from the twenty-seventh precinct of the VCPD,” she said through Asra’s speakers, her voice as happy and chirped as ever. Asra couldn’t help but let his lips twitch into the slightest smile at her voice and her smiling, freckled face. It had been so long since he had seen her, let alone hear her voice. “I’m here on Vesuvia’s best news broadcasting website and channel to give you an updated report on the shooting of Red Plague Inn. The devastating shootout happened roughly a year and a half ago, and claimed the lives of fifteen people -- including two officers and-” 

“Appra…” 

Asra didn't even hear what Portia had to say next. In fact, he didn't want to -- he tapped the spacebar to pause without even feeling himself do so. The ruthless memory of Appra seemed to pummel him. It was a stampede of pain flushing over his system, leaving his ears ringing and his eyes flashing with stars. He hadn’t thought about Appra since the funeral. He wouldn't allow himself to, anyways. He had distracted himself with drinking and misery and muder and…

Julian cleared his throat from across the office. Asra looked up at him, blinking a little. He waited for what his old friend had to say. 

“Like I said,” he murmured. “Lucio couldn’t have chosen a worse day to bring us both over. I didn’t want to see her face again after what I did. And then I got a reminder that Appra died and…” It was pretty easy to fill in the blanks from there onwards. He’d gone straight to the Rowdy Raven after that, as he did every time he got upset or the thoughts of Portia started to seep in again.

“Two cruel reminders of the biggest mistakes that I’ve made,” he murmured under his breath, averting his eyes. He didn’t want to look at Asra. He didn’t want to see however he was being looked at, whether it was going to be some look of pity or some irritation. He just couldn’t help but blame himself for what had happened. “Maybe if I’d been there… I was supposed to be there. It might not have happened.”

Asra shook his head a little, reaching a hand up to push it up and through his hair.   
“It wasn’t your fault,” he said, his voice very quiet. His eyes had focused back upon the computer monitor, staring emptily as the memories continued to stifle him. Strangle him, actually. “If it was anyone’s fault, it was mine. Appra was… Appra was my responsibility. It was me who got them involved with… with all this shit in the first place. If I hadn’t told them -- if I just kept it all a secret…” 

His blank, tired expression shifted. His eyes narrowed and his lips curled down into a tight sort of frown. His hands clenched tightly at his sides, and Asra began to shake his head again -- tone a little darker than before when he spoke again. 

“Which is why I’m never telling anyone what I really do.” He looked up at Julian again, features still twisted into a near scowl. Julian’s expression was sombre, as usual. He looked defeated as he listened to Asra. “That can’t happen again. It won’t.”

“I…” Julian wanted to argue. He wanted to insist that it would be best for Asra if he told Muriel, if he was honest. He wanted to argue that it wasn’t Asra’s fault, either, but he couldn’t manage to say anything. He couldn’t think of a way to dispute any of it.

“What if he finds out?” Julian said after a while, unable to stop himself from asking. “What will you do if he finds out anyway? If something happens and it slips… or… What would you do? That’s what I keep having to think about when it comes to Portia. That’s what I’m always thinking about- if I’m caught, if I’m sloppy, if anything… I don’t know what I’d do if she found out. Do you have any kind of a plan for that?”

Asra swallowed hard, flicking his gaze the other direction -- perhaps even turning his head so he didn't have to see the look in Julian’s eyes. As if that would make all of his truth easier to hear. Easier to deny. 

“I don’t,” he muttered. “I don’t have a plan. Which is why I’m not going to get caught. I’m not going to slip up. I don’t have a choice.” 

He gave a low sigh, reaching his hands up to rub his arms. Asra could certainly use his own trip to the Rowdy Raven right about then -- he could feel a rough night and maybe even a rough day after that all ahead of him. He turned down to the computer, looking at Portia’s smiling, innocent face and trying to feel the previous light that came from it. 

“What was the updated report?” Asra asked, clearing his throat. He was trying to divert the topic -- anything to ease that lightning bolt in his stomach. “Did they finally tie the shooting to the mafia, or do they still think it was some random drug meet gone wrong?”

“Oh, it’s just Pasha explaining every potential link they’ve got. It’s done in some kind of a Youtube conspiracy theory style, where she runs through the facts- the public ones- and how they’ve been linked. There’s a lot that ties it to the mafia, mostly Appra’s already known involvement and a few items that they had that linked them to Lucio. It wasn’t much, but… it’s enough, and the investigation is beginning to focus on us. There aren’t many specifics, but Nadia came in at one point to say that they were doing the best that they could and working hard. That there would be closure for the ‘friends and family’ of Appra.”

He sighed, keeping his eyes fixed on the floor.   
“It’s kinda funny. They’ve done so much investigating but still think that Appra’s family is just ‘too hesitant’ to come forward. Even when there isn’t any record of Appra’s family.”

Asra sighed, frowning at the website before him. He settled his hand down on the mouse, but instead of pressing play, he brought it up to the top corner and closed all of his tabs with one firm click of that red x. He leaned up again, sweeping his hair from his forehead with one last anxious push of his hand, and then turned to Julian, shrugging up his shoulders. 

“Whatever,” he muttered, shaking his head again. Asra began back to Faust’s corner, helping her slither her way down to her heating rock. “We’ve got work to do.” 

When he made his way up to Julian, he clapped a firm hand on his friend’s shoulder -- squeezing it a little and showing him a wan smile.   
“You ready to go back in there and wipe the smile from that asshole’s face?” 

Julian still couldn’t stop himself from blushing red when Asra’s hand squeezed his shoulder, the firm grip always managing to light his face on fire, sending a subtle sort of thrill through his body that he cursed himself for feeling.  
“As long as you are,” he said in the most cool tone his drunken mind could manage, pushing to his feet. He was too tall now for Asra’s hand to rest on his shoulder, thankfully, so he began to the door and pulled it open, gesturing for Asra to go ahead.

Now all that he had to do was get some information and he could go back to the bar to think about Asra with each new drink he had until he couldn’t remember how much it hurt.

Asra smiled at him, before turning around and making his way back to the room from before. As expected, Ludovico still hadn’t been back and the door sat unguarded -- but Asra wasn’t worried. He strolled up to the door with a new sort of confidence. A new swagger in his step. Which was odd, all things considering… but the only thing that separated him and the mindset concerning Appra had been work, and Asra knew that for a very credible fact. 

He could torture a man to forget his mistakes. Break every bone for every regret. Slash his own pangs of guilt into someone else's skin. Force his rage from his fingertips with a burst of magic that would feel like a flood of acid flushed beneath the man’s skin. 

Asra almost found himself antsy to begin again. To show the man who he was. What he could do and how he would do it…

But then Asra settled his hand on the door to open it, and found it had already been cracked. 

“Julian, did you shut the door on your way out?” Asra asked, his smile fading as his posture straightened and he leaned up, turning to look over his shoulder. 

“Shut it? Yeah. Definitely shut it. Why? Did I forget to lock it?” he took a few steps toward Asra. “We shouldn’t worry. He had a knife through his hand that kept him to the chair. I doubt anyone could have pulled a knife from their hands that quickly- and that quietly.”

There wasn’t much conviction in his words, though. He knew that Asra was getting anxious and that made him anxious, too.

Asra’s face paled, all the color seeping from his skin along with feeling -- leaving him nearly sheet white and numb. Without another word he pushed the door open, a burst of nervous magic propelling the door so hard it slammed against the wall and left a heavy tremor in its wake. His eyes were wide and desperate as they scanned the dark room, but that didn't change a thing they saw. It didn't change the empty, tipped over chair. Nor did it change the missing knives from their table. Nor did it change the trail of bloodied footprints leading to the doorway and the bloody handprint smeared across the wall.

“Fuck!” Asra hissed, reeling away from the doorway and starting down the hall, following the trail of blood. 

He heard Julian slur something behind him, but Asra moved too fast to care, running all the way past the elevator and to the staircase where the footprints lead. His own feet pounded away in the echoing staircase, echoing up the hall and creating an irritating cascading effect to his adrenaline filled brain. His lungs were burning by the time he reached the bottom floor, his chest heaving, his calf muscles aching. Asra still barreled his way through the staircase door and out into the lobby, whipping his wild gaze around the room for a bloodied escapee…

Nothing. He was gone. The only thing there had been the night guards -- one of them on the ground in a puddle of his own blood, and the other kneeling by her writhing friend as she tried to stop his bleeding.

Asra swore again, the air wheezing in and out past his lips. He brought his hands up to his head, his limbs weak and racking with exhausted trembles as he grasped and tugged at his hair with his fingers. With a growling sort of whine, he stumbled backwards, falling into the wall and sinking down to a defeated slouch against it, his heart slamming so hard against his chest it nearly hurt. A few moments later he managed to lift his head to see Julian stumbling through the doorway of the staircase, in a nearly worse state than Asra as he staggered up to the desk and looked out into the lobby. 

“He’s not here,” Asra wheezed, shaking his head. “We lost him. He’s gone.”

And Julian, to add insult to injury, failed to respond as he doubled over and vomited, both from intoxication and exhaustion after running down fourteen flights of stairs behind Asra.

Now defeated, frustrated, and exhausted, the two of them turned to the blood-smeared elevator and began toward it, fully aware of the shouting and degrading that would inevitably await them when they delivered the bad news to Lucio.

Julian was still groaning and clutching his stomach, leant against the elevator wall as they slowly travelled up those fourteen floors. Asra was feeling a numb sort of acceptance as he prepared himself, sighing as he fixed his gaze on a splatter of rapidly drying blood stuck to the floor.  
“He’s going to be pissed, huh?” he couldn’t help but mutter, his eyes flicking up to Julian. He only got a pained groan in return. “God. As if he isn’t always pissed enough.”

Inevitably, though, the elevator slowed to a stop on that damned floor, where most of the blood was splattered about, and Asra started to leave. Julian pushed up and began to stumble after him moments later, sauntering about with his usual drunken clumsiness. Asra didn’t comment, didn’t spare him a glance, just continuing to the door to Lucio’s office. He didn’t wait, just pushing the door open.

Explaining what had happened was the quick part. It always was. Lucio seemed to love dragging it out whenever he was yelling at someone, emphasising how shameful their failure was. That was how they found themselves in his office, with Lucio’s shrill voice echoing about the room, fueled with rage and disgust.

“That was, by far, the most disgusting, the most pathetic, the most humiliating display I’ve ever seen! How is it that you two, my best workers, the ones I entrusted with a job I knew would be difficult, failed so atrociously! Not only did you let him escape without getting even a scrap of my desired information, but he smeared blood on my walls and spilled it on my new marble floors!”

“That was pathetic! I would task the two of you with finding him, but after this embarrassing failure I wouldn’t trust you with cleaning up the blood he left everywhere! Your behaviour was abysmal! Vile! I’m sickened! Do you know how long people have spent hunting him down? Do you know how many months he had been slipping under the radar and you just let him go? Left his room and let him leave? Where was Ludovico?! He was there for a reason- how did he just fail to catch our prisoner?!”

There was guilty shifting, shuffling, averted eyes. Lucio didn’t need them to confess directly to what they’d done- the shame in Julian’s eyes was enough of a confession.  
“Ah.” His eyes flicked to Asra. “You let him leave, didn’t you?”

His voice was suddenly low. No longer shrill with enragement. Softer. Hesitant. Slow, even. Somewhat taunting.

“You felt bad. One of you two felt bad for him, pitied him. You knew he was in such a poor position, and let him leave. Told him to take time off. Dismissed him even though it isn’t your place to do so. Didn’t you?”

Julian parted his guilty lips, eyes cast to the side, but Asra stepped up and cut him off, lifting his head to look Lucio in the eyes. 

“Yes. I did,” he said, voice tired but stoic. No longer snappy and sarcastic in the face of his boss -- it was much more tame by then. Much more defeated. “Both Julian and Ludovico told me it was a bad idea, but since I am a higher rank than both of them I made sure it was a direct order.” 

He could feel Julian’s widened eye on him. He could even see it from the corner of his own. But Asra didn't falter -- he kept his dazed, tired gaze on Lucio. He kept his features straight and emotionless as he awaited punishment. Awaited shouting and belittling and maybe even a dock in his ranking altogether. He’d take it too. Asra was prepared to take whatever Lucio wanted to throw at him -- he was too tired to try and fight for himself. If he was fighting for anyone, it would be for Julian and Ludovico. 

If anything, Asra was the only one who could really handle a docking in pay.

Lucio grit his teeth. The tension worked its way through his body quickly, his anger only growing.  
“You’re far more foolish than I thought you were,” he hissed out, digging the tips of his gauntlet into the desk. It was rich with marks by now, littered in scratches and dents from where his nails had caused damage- intentionally or otherwise. “Your behaviour is sickening. I’m tired of hearing the same stories again and again- you insist upon being better than everyone around you. You insist on being the best in the room at all times, don’t you? Morally, in some way, you always think you’re the best. You’re not some pathetic alcoholic. You don’t hoard blame. That makes you better than Jules, doesn’t it? You get a little pride from that?” 

He was prodding at Asra with every question, testing him, teasing him. Each word was so slick with malice.  
“And dismissing Ludovico? You think you’re so great for that. You think you did such a nice thing, don’t you? That it was so heroic of you? You think that it being an order will change the fact that I’m going to punish him for it? You think that because it was an order I won’t be angry at him? Or are you just hoping I’ll take the anger out on you so that you’ll take a beating for someone and be morally superior?”

He made his way around the desk swiftly and jabbed a finger into Asra’s chest. His razor-sharp gauntlet dug into his skin, stinging.  
“I’ve got some news for you, Asra. You’re scum. You’re just as disgusting as the rest of us. You kill, you steal, and you do every other thing that everyone here does. The only thing you’re apparently incapable of is torture, and that’s just because you keep letting people escape! Just because you’re ordered to do these things doesn’t make you any less of a monster.”

He pushed a little harder, close to breaking skin.  
“If you want to think you’re so great, fine. If you want to pride yourself on not being the worst, fine. But being the nicest demon in hell doesn’t make you an angel.”

Asra’s jaw muscles pulsed, but he didn't say a thing. He had turned his gaze away when Lucio jabbed him, forcing himself not to turn and lash out himself as the prick of Lucio’s golden finger dug unto his chest. His eyes were heavy lidded and tired, the corners of his lips curled downwards in a light frown. Asra’s system, however, seemed to be tying itself into knots. His stomach churned and that lightning bolt of guilt sizzled, electricity crackling up his chest and burning his heart. 

Was that all true? He didn't really know. He didn't care to know, either. He just wanted to go home and be with Faust. A nap right about then would be nice -- a nap and then a trip out in his car. His Jeep with its soft top and its roaring engine. 

But he didn't have it. It was still at Muriel’s shop…

Muriel. Being with Muriel would have been really nice right then and there…

He was snapped from his trickling thought process when Lucio cleared his throat before him, his face read, eyes flaming as they waited expectantly for an answer. 

“Okay,” Asra finally said, lifting a shoulder in a halfhearted shrug. 

Infuriated further by the lack of energy in Asra’s response, Lucio pulled back his fist and, without much thinking, struck Asra. Thankfully, though, he’d not used his prosthetic so the risk of breaking Asra’s jaw or knocking loose a tooth wasn’t there, but the impact was still harsh and sudden. Asra stumbled back some, his head knocked aside and his mind set in a teetering whirl. He lifted a hand up to his cheek, feeling the throbbing swell of a bruise as he lifted his head up to show his shocked, wide eyed gaze up to the enraged Lucio.

Lucio seemed a little less himself than usual. He was being stretched thin- both with the heat being brought down on his mafia as had been mentioned on the news, and with the disappearing act recently completed by someone he was supposed to interrogate. Then Asra’s sudden, blatant carelessness? The neutrality? It seemed to be the last thing he needed, the final tipping point. It seemed to just push him over the edge.

“Get out of my sight,” he spat. “You’re not getting a penny for the next month. Jules, you’ll get half pay for the next two weeks. I’ll talk with Ludovico privately about this. Leave before I decide to take away both of your salaries.”

Asra didn't say anything. He didn't even nod. He just kept his hand on the hot wound swelling up the curve of his cheekbone and turned, letting his emotions shine through upon his features when he was out of the Count’s line of sight. His teeth were grit and his eyes angry and narrowed as he pushed his way through Lucio’s door and out into the hall. He didn't even wait for Julian. He just wanted to get the hell out of there. Out of that building and away from Lucio and the blood and the failures and the security guard already being escorted to the hospital by more of Lucio’s guards to keep the police from noticing anything. 

By the time he had gotten Faust and made his way into his car -- the one he was using instead of his Jeep -- the mark on his face had begun to bleed. Asra didn't try to stop it, he just let it bead and then drip and then trail down the side of his face, clinging to his jaw and tickling his neck. Faust curled nervously around his shoulders, her tongue flicking from her mouth as she pressed her nose into his clean cheek. He ignored her. His phone buzzed in his pocket, likely a call from Julian. 

He ignored that too.


	7. Visitors

It was rare Muriel hummed.

Why? He didn't quite know. Maybe it just wasn't something a man such as himself was likely to do. His voice was rough and low. He was sure he might have been the slightest bit tone deaf, too. Not to mention humming was usually a happy activity -- mindless, of course, but happy. Muriel knew he wasn't the image that would come to someone's mind at the thought of humming. That was more of a Disney-style protagonist with bright eyes and an innocent charm, something quite different than the image he portrayed for himself. Humming just... was never his thing.

Which was why it had been so odd when he caught himself doing just that while he worked on Asra's car.

He was nearly done sanding when he noticed it. Muriel had leaned back, sitting on his haunches as he overlooked his work, and felt the low vibrations of his vocal chords through the little plastic mask he wore over his mouth and nose. He had stopped, furrowed his brow, and blinked his eyes -- almost as though he had to physically freeze to process everything. Muriel couldn't even tell himself how long he'd been humming, it was that mindless of a process.

But... that didn't mean he didn't know what he was humming.

That song from Asra's phone when he'd gotten the text in the bar. That stupid, poppy, teeth-grindingly catchy song that seemed to cling to Muriel's brain since the moment he heard the little chime. Drunk, Muriel had looked it up the night before on his old laptop he kept beneath his pillow -- typing in the lyrics his fuzzy head could remember while a confused Inanna watched from the floor, her head cocked and her ears perked. He played it once. And then again. And then one more time before he passed out, cursing himself with the spinning record of Taylor Swift in his head. Even with his hangover the next morning, Muriel could hear the lyrics spinning through his aching brain as he dragged himself from bed and into a bitterly cold shower.

He didn't like it. Not one bit. It was jumpy and exciting and... childish, if he had to say so himself. Muriel only listened to music in the car, and even then is was old, slow rock -- sixties and seventies were his favorites. Occasionally he'd play a slower Nine Inch Nails song, but only because he liked their shirt design. But poppy Taylor Swift? With animated bass and computerized keyboards? Muriel almost hated it.

Hated it so much he couldn't help but hum out the melody as he worked.

Muriel gave a low sigh and rolled his eyes, scooting back from the car and pushing himself up to his feet. The body was a sad, ugly grey by then -- stripped of its eye-popping magenta with Muriel's sanding tools. He'd been working on the fine details, erasing any strip of color he could by hand before he would wipe it all down with thinners by hand too. There was no denying he had certainly taken on a handful with Asra's Jeep, the work proved itself in the sweat prickling at his neck and the aching muscle pains in his lower back and shoulders. Muriel slipped the mask from his face and set it down on the table as he walked by it, reaching out for his water bottle and guzzling down a few good sips.

It didn't matter if it was too much. The money was going to help him a lot. Asra was already looking at a four hundred dollar job -- Muriel had underestimated the cost. But, considering that five hundred dollar tip he left in Muriel's tip jar from the day before, he guiltily assured himself it would be fine. And if it wasn't... Muriel wasn't opposed to slimming down the bill. With all the breakfasts he was sure the odd magician would take him to in the future, Asra was going to be wasting enough money on him.

Those five hundred dollars were still in that jar from yesterday -- Muriel had been foolish and left them all there in the garage when they left for Asra's hotel. Luckily, no one broke into the shop, so everything Asra gave him was still there, rolled up into a compact wad that would likely sit on Muriel's kitchen table until the next payment to Lucio was due.

Or... maybe he'd spend it on himself. Maybe. It would depend on how much Inanna scolded him.

Muriel, without realizing, began humming again as he stood there on his break, leaned against his table and sipping at his water. He watched the road idly, just dragging his gaze along the potholes and then to the small motels and shops that lined the street adjacent to his own. Occasionally a bird would flutter down to the sidewalk and hop its way around a bit in search for something, before leaping from the ground and flying off again. Muriel cocked his head and watched a rather fat robin bounce his way to the yellowed grass growing in the cracks of his parking lot and began to pick at it. He dully wondered if the robin had been fixing up his nest.

Car tires crunched. Muriel lifted his head from the bird when it flew away, startled by the sound, and found a car pulling into his lot. It was an average car -- just some early 2000s model of Chevy -- but along each side had been long, ugly looking scratches, all accompanied with dents. The damage was newer, Muriel could tell that right away. As it pulled closer, turing into the nearest parking spot to the garage door, Muriel could see one of the windows had cracked somehow.

He frowned a little. Muriel wasn't good at replacing windows. He hoped whoever it was didn't ask him to do that -- especially not with Asra's paint job on his hands.

The driver's seat door popped open, and a man stepped out. Muriel blinked a bit, almost double taking at the size of this stranger. Why... he was nearly as tall as Muriel himself -- maybe an inch or so shorter. He didn't know if the sight made him relieved or nervous or... or whatever else he could have been feeling as he watched the stranger shut his door and turn to the garage.

"Oh- hi," he called over his car. His voice was hoarse, a little sickly sounding. There was a deep cut on the right side of his face, and swollen bruise on the other. Muriel found himself a little apprehensive as the man made his way to the garage. "You're Muriel? The car mechanic of South End?"

Muriel gave a wary nod. "Uh... one of them I guess." His tone was softer, eyes flicking off to the side. He'd noticed bloody bandages around each of the man's hands. "Mechanics I mean. My name is Muriel..."

Inanna senses his nerves, and instantly pushed up from her bed. She trotted her way to his side, as always, attentive eyes on the stranger -- who stopped at the opening of the garage at the sight of the rather protective wolf at Muriel's side.

"Oh, cool. That's a... big dog," the man said, furrowing his brow. He looked back up at Muriel, a slight smirk curling up his lips. "A... friend of mine mentioned your name. I knew it wouldn't be too hard to find you."

A slight chill scraped its way down Muriel's spine. He set down the water bottle beside him on the table, and leaned up. "What do you want from me... specifically...?"

"Well, I'm here for insurance, mostly," the man hummed, his voice slickened down with an oily sort of snide Muriel didn't like or understand. "But I'm also here to ditch my car. You can have it -- take it apart and spread it around. I don't want it. And I wouldn't suggest using it either, unless you ditch the plates."

Muriel's heart flipped in his chest, something hard leaping in his throat. "If you're messing with the law I... I don't want it," he said, throat a little dry. The very last thing he wanted was for the police to come sniffing near him. There were too many things to dig up. Too many scars from his past to unveil.

The man held up his hands, catching Muriel's sudden panic. "No worries. I'm actually with the law. Sort of." His voice had eased back down to the calmness from earlier. That charm. "Just take the car and sell it for parts. And then I've got one more favor after that."

There was a lull of silence as Muriel watched him, tense and waiting for him to continue. When he didn't, Muriel spoke, figuring the man wanted him to. "What...?"

"Tell your buddy Asra I visited," he said, flashing a dark grin. "Tell him I said he should know what that means."

Muriel's face paled at Asra's name -- his skin cooling and numbing at the way the stranger had crooned it out in such a manner of hatred and malice. Like it was an insult. A curse. Something that almost felt like anger almost came over him at how that man had said Asra's name. A soft, low churn of it brewed in his gut. His eyes darkened a little in result, narrowing as he tipped his head forwards.

"And what does that mean?" he asked, words slow.

Instead of fear, the man showed his most innocent smile, and lifted his shoulders.

"I would ask Asra," he said in a snicker. "If I were you, I would hope to God he knows."

A threat. That was a threat. Muriel knew what those sounded like all too well.

Before Muriel could respond, however, his system too stalled with the shock -- the man turned on his heel, lifting a hand to wave at him as he sauntered away. "Goodbye, Muriel the mechanic," he called, hopping onto the sidewalk and starting his way down it. "Hope you're lucky with the car! Don't forget my little favor!"

Muriel watched him walk off, eyes still narrowed, Inanna now standing at his side, her fur bristled as she watched the stranger turn the corner. There were a tense few moments where the two stood in silence, processing what had happened, letting the atmosphere settle after that stranger's parting wishes. Muriel didn't even realize his hands were balled into fists at his sides until he felt his blanched knuckles relax, his shoulders slumping. Oddly, he found his fingers a bit steadier than they should have been after such an encounter as he lifted a hand to touch at his temple -- which still ached enough from the hangover.

"I should call Asra," he murmured worriedly, earning a low whine of approval from the wolf beside him.

He moved back behind the table, patting for his phone and flipping it open with his thumb, eyes narrowed as he searched through his recent calls to find Asra's number. There was a moment of hesitation before pressing the green call button, his conviction leaving him as the usual worry began to creep in again. The usual overflow of thought. First it was 'Asra's probably tired from work', then it was 'Asra probably wouldn't care enough to answer'. It took a few prompting nudges from inanna's nose at his side to make the call, but he finally did, pinching his eyes closed at the flush of hot regret and lifting the phone to his ear.

Muriel listened to it ring, preparing himself for voicemail...

"Hey, Muriel!" Asra had answered. He'd left Lucio's a few hours before and had enough time to collect Faust before driving back. He'd showered, cleaned up, changed his clothes and had a nap. Not to mention the little extra... smoking he'd done as a post-torture relaxation method. All little things that he needed to do to help him relieve his overwhelming stress. The drugs was just a little something extra to help him calm down quicker, to prevent guilt from taking over him.

His mind had, as expected, been on Muriel incessantly for the last few hours. What else was he supposed to think about? What else was he meant to do? He'd slipped up and that man knew Muriel's name and that he was in South End and knew about his job! That man could have been anywhere. He was tempted to go to South End and sit by Muriel to keep an eye out for a tall man with mysterious bandages.

That was why his heart had twisted when Muriel had called out of the blue, but he was hoping it was just an update for the car, some dry and bland hope that it would be information on the paint failing to adhere or there not being enough paint or even that he was going to be charged just a little more. He knew that it wasn't something that he should hope for, but he'd be relieved no matter the news if he didn't hear about some stranger scoping his place.

He'd even be happy to hear if his car had been totalled, so long as it meant that Muriel hadn't come into contact with a revenge-hungry man.

Still, though, he forced energy into his voice, enthusiasm bleeding into his words even if there was dread churning up his stomach. No matter how guilty he felt, he was sure to keep himself happy enough for Muriel not to pick up on his worry.

"I was about to call you. Is everything alright? You don't usually call me first."

Still, he felt anxious about the response. About whether or not Muriel would mention that dreaded visitor. Still, he was worried, scared on Muriel's behalf.

Muriel blushed a little at the idea Asra had been about to call him, but he brushed it off for the sake of the situation.

"Uh... yeah, I think," he mumbled, turning around and scanning the sidewalk again before he even tried to think about what he could say. "Your car is sanded down -- I need to clean it and prime it and then I can paint but... something weird just happened..."

He trailed off, falling silent. Asra still waited for him on the other side of the line, his patience audible even through the quiet static of the call. Muriel gave a slight sigh before going on, shifting the phone to his other ear and looking around again.

"This guy showed up to drop off his car. He was bloody and his car was all scratched up... he told me he didn't want it anymore." Ah, there they were -- those nerves he should have felt earlier. Muriel wondered why it had taken them so long to show up. He continued though, nothing the slight shake of his hands. "He told me to tell you that he came by. He said... he said you should know what that means. I didn't really know what he was talking about but I think he threatened me..."

Muriel paused a second, building enough confidence to ask his next quiet question.

"Is everything okay, Asra? Are you... are you involved with something?"

There was silence for a long while. Seconds rolling by where that churning guilt and the way Asra's thoughts swam was too distracting for him to speak.  
"Muriel, I..."

He wasn't going to tell him. He couldn't take that risk. But he couldn't let Muriel be in the house if that man came back, if it came to a point of being him or Muriel... He didn't know what he would do. He wasn't going to let anything happen.

 

"I don't know what... I don't know who that could have been." He could almost hear his own lack of conviction. "Let's go out tonight. Take your mind off it, yeah? We'll go out, get something nice for dinner? Maybe have a drink? I'll get a lift there, you can meet me- I'll send you the address." He didn't know what else he could do. He didn't know how else he could get Muriel out of the house without it being suspicious. He took Muriel out often enough for it to seem normal, right?"

"I don't like to hear you worrying so much. Come on, let's go out together. On me, as per usual."

Muriel's brow furrowed. He knew something was wrong -- even if he didn't he know from experience, he could tell from common sense alone. Asra was lying, avoiding the topic, something. Something that didn't make Muriel's stomach sit right for a moment.

He leaned back against the table again, the line lulling into his nervous silence. Muriel wanted to say something. Anything, actually. He wanted to say anything that could help. He wanted to ask Asra again if everything had been okay, and then he wanted to tell Asra that he knew better than anyone what it was like to be involved with something you wanted nothing to do with. Tell him that he knew what it was like... that he wouldn't be mad if...

If Asra had a secret to share.

But Muriel couldn't say any of that. A conversation in such a direction would be the sharp tool to open up his own can of secrets. Things he didn't need or have to explain. Things he couldn't explain, if he wanted to keep Asra's company any longer.

So Muriel shrugged his shoulders. "I guess that'd be nice..." he mumbled, voice back to its usual grumble. "But maybe a little later. I should start dealing with his car... at least get rid of the plates. I don't want anything he did to get traced back to me..."

"How long do you think you'll be?" Asra asked almost immediately, not hesitating to insist that he and Muriel should go out. He wanted to go, he wanted to take Muriel far away from here or anywhere that anyone could hurt him. But he couldn't. He just had to wait for Muriel to be ready to go out and then he'd just have to hope that Muriel would be out for long enough for whoever that was to do whatever he wanted to do.

"I mean, obviously there's no rush, but I want to see you again soon. I think it would be nice to go out together and I was hoping we could spend time together again tonight."

He was almost entirely sure that he was coming on too strong, too desperate, that it would be obvious that he was just trying to steal Muriel away for whatever reason, but he was too worried to care. Too aware of the potential consequences. Too eager to protect Muriel to think about anything else.

Muriel noted Asra's eagerness, but he decided again not to comment. Instead, he turned his gaze to the stranger's car again.

"An hour or so if I start right away," he said softly, cocking his head. "I should probably go back to my apartment to drop off the money and change too so... an hour and a half to two hours, I guess.'"

He looked back to his table, reaching over to the tip jar and slipping out Asra's money before his forgot -- his fingertips buzzing upon contact. He felt his skin crawl a bit with his back turned to the sidewalk outside, that stranger's eerie tone and smiling threats still twisting his stomach a bit. Muriel gave a soft sigh, feeling the tension wind in his shoulders as he turned back around and looked through the sidewalk for the third or fourth time.

"Can... can we not go out?" Muriel asked in a nervous blurt, sticking the money into his pocket. "I mean we can see each other but I'm still kind of... my nerves are kind of..." He trailed off, hoping Asra would just connect the dots. "Can I just go to your place? I don't want to be in public right now..."

"That's perfectly fine," Asra said in a heartbeat, smiling. Relief flooded his system when he heard that Muriel was going to come over, that Muriel trusted him that much. "You said two hours? Great. I'll go shopping to get something to cook for us. Take your time, but call me again or text me before you head over so I know how long I've got left."

He sighed a little, smiling as he held the phone to his ear.  
"I'll see you then. Be careful. Keep me updated if anything else happens, alright?" He was still a little worried, but he trusted that Muriel would follow his requests and tell him if something happened that upset or worried him. Then he'd be straight over, no questions asked, to help Muriel. Still, though, he couldn't help but worry about whatever that man was going to do, or what his threat might have implied that he was going to do.

Muriel nodded, his brow a little furrowed at Asra's concern. "Alright..." he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck and scanning the sidewalk again. "I guess I'll see you later. Bye."

"Remember to message me, okay? I'll keep my phone close. Goodbye!!"

With a sigh, Muriel flipped his phone shut, tossing it down onto the table with a gentle clatter before bringing both hands up to his head. Asra's secrecy worried him. The way he dodged questions and sloppily covered up his answers worried him. It reminded him too much of himself -- and Muriel didn't like that. Which he guiltily supposed made him a hypocrite, of course... but of all the things Muriel could call himself, 'hypocrite' could have been the nicest one.

But it didn't matter if Asra's secrets scared him. He didn't deserve the benefit of labeling himself as any sort of victim -- especially not with someone as kind and as nice and... and as soft as Asra. Muriel valued privacy. It was the most valuable thing he had, really. If he could do one thing for the person who had basically been paying his bills, it was give him the simple right of privacy.

"I guess we're closing early," he murmured to Inanna as he scooped up his toolbox. She followed him as he made his way out to the stranger's abandoned car. "Again."

Inanna gave a huff.

'Serves us right' she said in his head. 'We deserve it.'

Muriel sighed again, stopping and shrugging his shoulders once he made it to the backside of that Chevy. He looked around again, craning his neck to peek behind the corner the stranger had disappeared behind, before turning back to his new car -- full of expensive and helpful parts.

"Maybe we do," he grumbled.

~~~

Asra had gone out to the supermarket a few moments after hanging up. Even as tiredness clung to him, he'd found the energy to make himself presentable and to go out looking for something to make for himself and Muriel. He was honestly a little glad that Muriel had asked to come to his house- he'd wanted to show off his cooking skills for a little while, and there was nothing wrong with a traditional Greek dish that he'd learned about during his early years travelling, was there?

Faust had happily accompanied him, wrapped around his neck and reminding him of the ingredients he'd forgotten with how long it had been since he'd last made anything Greek. His parents had made him some of these dishes before, he was sure of it. He couldn't remember that long ago, but when he mixed together the spices and when the air in the kitchen was thick with the sweet scent of a home-cooked meal, he felt it in his bones. It felt right.

Today, he was making moussaka for Muriel. It was like a lasagna, very rich with cheeses and meat, something perfect for sharing. It was something he'd only made once or twice before, usually for important gatherings (often work-based) and he was hoping, one day, he could make it as a family dish. If he ever found a family, that was.

It took a mix of spices- allspice, cinnamon, black pepper, oregano, along with some chopped garlic cloves- to prep the sauce to go over the beef. He cut the potatoes into thin slices and layered it with egg, then with the meat and the sauce. He repeated this a few times, adding cheese on top and smiling proudly at the dish he'd made. Then, finally content, did he slid it into the oven and put it on a timer for thirty-five minutes. Just as his phone dinged with a text from Muriel, one that he was sure would be telling Asra that Muriel was on his way.

Perfect timing.

 

He slid his phone from his pocket, looking at what Muriel had sent him, smiling fondly.

It was nothing but a simple 'omw'. Muriel had actually forgotten to text him when he left the house, too preoccupied with making sure his door was locked and his money was safe beneath his mattress, so he had sent the text rather quickly while stopped at a red light. Inanna whined at him for using his phone on the road, but he just rolled his eyes and tucked it back into his pocket before the light even had a chance to change back.

Muriel had showered and changed before he left the house. He tried to keep himself from wearing anything too special, but he couldn't stop from picking a pair of nice jeans he'd only worn a handful of times before -- expensive, better fitting jeans he saved for the rare special occasion. He had pulled on a clean white shirt and grabbed Asra's loaned button up before he left, hoping Asra would take it back. Inanna judged him the whole time he wondered about which pair of his three sets of boots he should wear, huffing at him from the front door. Perhaps his worry over what color boots to wear had been another reason he forgot to text back when he left the house, but Muriel wouldn't quite admit that. Not to himself, or the smug Inanna in the passenger seat.

He didn't need much help finding Asra's apartment. He'd been texted the address, of course, but without a GPS system on his phone Muriel had to rely on his knowledge of the city to get around. He'd known it well -- whether that was lucky or not, Muriel didn't know. The height and grandeur of Asra's building helped considerably so in the search, though. He spotted it while he was stuck in traffic about five blocks away, and he was there in maybe fifteen minutes -- parked across the street with his head ducked as he shut off his spluttering motor.

The sun was just going down when he stepped out of his truck, the orange glow of the setting sun that bled through the buildings bathing the pale sidewalks as he paid his parking meter. Stares of people who stepped past him were almost painfully obvious and a bit harder to deal with on his own, but Muriel did his best to ignore them as he crossed the street and started for Asra's lobby. The sign concerning pets and familiars didn't stop him -- he figured Asra had already cleared things over with that woman at the desk. At least he hoped so as he stepped up to her, his head still ducked and his eyes on the floor.

"Oh- it's you," she said, not all that snide but not very welcoming either. "You're going to Alnazar's room, I'm guessing?"

It took Muriel a moment or so to realize she'd been talking about Asra.

"Uh... yeah, I guess so," he mumbled.

"I'll buzz you up. Take the elevator to the left -- pent suite, top floor." Her voice was all business, maybe pinched with the slightest bit of worry when her gaze drifted down to the wolf at Muriel's side. "Next time, bring a leash for your... dog, sir."

Inanna cocked her head, whining a little as she looked up to Muriel, ears curiously perked as she awaited his answer.

"Oh," he said. "Okay."

She gave a playfully growling whine and nipped at his ankles, to which the lady behind the desk grimaced at before Muriel assured her it was fine. Without another word, he turned, his shoulders high and his face a bright red at the previous display. Muriel made his way to the elevator, waited until he could be alone on his own ride, and quietly scolded Inanna when they were alone -- watching the numbers change with every gentle ping from the elevator speakers.

Muriel had to check his phone for the room number once he made it to Asra's hall. He counted his way up the doors, and then stopped in front of what had to be Asra's. A mouth watering smell crept its way through the crack beneath Asra's door, something that made Muriel's suddenly hungry stomach leap and his eyes widen.

There was a moment or so where he hesitated to knock -- just like the phone call from before, he found himself a little frozen. Taking the initiative wasn't normally his thing. Just like humming along to a Taylor Swift song wasn't his thing.

What was Asra doing to him?

Muriel pretended he didn't know as he lifted his hand and delivered two wary knocks, before stepping back and toying with the hem of his shirt while he waited.

It was only a matter of moments before soft footsteps approached the door and it was being pulled open. The second the door flung open, the strong scent of food beginning to mingle with the air of the hallway. It was a mouth-watering mix of spices and meat, a preview of the meal to come.

Asra wore a purple apron, dirtied ever so slightly with flour he'd used for the sauce, but he didn't seem to notice it as he moved forward and wrapped his arms firmly around Muriel in a tight hug, smiling.

Muriel tensed instantly, almost flinching at the sudden contact. His breath hitched and his eyes widened when Asra had leapt forwards, his shoulders high and his posture rigid when he felt his friend's arms squeeze tight against his waist. He didn't do anything though -- nothing but force his muscles to fall slack as he tried to tame his nerves a bit, not wanting to make Asra feel any sort of bad.

Asra broke away moments later, beaming up at Muriel.  
"I'm glad you came," he said, having not noticed how the hug had shaken Muriel up for the first few lingering moments. He took Muriel's hand- again, not thinking too much before he pulled Muriel into the apartment, grinning as he pushed the door closed behind him again. "Dinner's in the oven. It needs another five minutes to cook, fifteen at most, and then another fifteen to cool before we can eat."

He moved away, only to kneel and begin to scratch between Inanna's ears.  
"Settle in, sweetheart! I got you some food, too, and a bed! So you don't need to worry about where you'll sleep- but the couches are still an option if you'd rather sleep there. Okay?" He moved his hand to scratch under her chin, smiling sweetly at her.

Muriel watched Inanna dance around Asra, tipping her head up and turning it this way and that to direct Asra's friendly pets where she wanted. His eyes were still a little wide, arms unconsciously lifting to wrap around his torso -- falling in line with the ghost of Asra's hug as though he hoped to preserve that resident buzz. Once the slight spike of discomfort had faded, Muriel finally noticed how nice it had felt. The abruptness of it all was in bad taste but... the feeling it left over was...

Nice. It was nice. That was all he was going to say about it, his face heating up as he turned to look at the floor.

"You didn't have to get her a bed," he mumbled, tone a little guilty. "You're spending too much money on us... it's not like we're going to be here all night..."

"Well, I wouldn't mind if you did," Asra said earnestly, smiling warmly up at Muriel. He pat his bicep before he began to inside again. "Would you like anything to drink? I'd offer snacks but dinner's soon."

He led the two of them through to the living room, gesturing for Muriel to sit on the couch and tapping it for Inanna to leap up onto it. Faust slithered down his arm, curling about his fingers before slinking onto the couch, waiting excitedly for Inanna to settle beside her, her tongue flicking out of her mouth.

"Get comfy, alright? Make yourself at home, exactly like I was saying last time. You can make yourselves as comfortable here as you want. You don't have any food allergies, do you? I meant to ask earlier but I assumed that you didn't or that you'd be too busy to reply."

Muriel blinked, looking up from his bicep where Asra had patted him and to the couch. Inanna had already been hopping up onto it, stepping around in a circle before curling up beside Asra's snake. It was only a matter of time before Faust slithered up on top of her, coiling up into a comfortable spile right on top of Inanna -- warm and content on the near-dozing wolf. Muriel furrowed his brow a little, and looked up to Asra, who'd still been watching and smiling at the familiars' scene before them.

"Why are you in such a good mood?" Muriel asked, still hugging himself. "What's there to be so happy about...?"

"What isn't there to be happy about?" Asra asked, smiling sweetly. "Besides, I'm always happy when you're around." He pet Inanna again before he got to his feet, beginning back toward the kitchen. "Have you got any allergies or not, Muri? I don't want to serve you something if it'll kill you."

"Oh, yeah..." Muriel blinked, remembering the question. "I mean no. No I don't have any. Inanna's stomach gets upset when she eats anything too greasy... but now that I think about it that's not important..."

The timer began to go off only a moment or so after Asra had stepped into the kitchen, and he happily took the moussaka from the oven and set it on the stove. He took out a couple of glasses.  
"Would you like something alcoholic or not? I've got some nice wines or some water- and some fruit juice? Whatever you want. Don't feel obligated to drink just because I'm going to be having some wine."

A few moments later, two wine glasses and a bottle of wine were floating over to the coffee table in the living room, setting them down on costas. After that came two normal glasses with a jug of water and a few bottles of fruit juice.

"Just choose whatever you want, okay?"

Muriel made a face at the bottle of wine Asra had conjured to float into the living room, the smell of it already hitting his nose despite the bottle not having been open.

"Anything but wine," he said, tone a little flat as he stepped over to the couch, eyeing that bottle as he sank down beside Inanna. "Just some fruit juice would be fine. Anything berry, I guess."

He tore his gaze from the wine and the wine bottles, trying to ease the slight curl of his lips as he looked up at Asra in the kitchen. "I, uh, brought back that shirt you gave me. If you want it back, I mean." He blushed a little, looking down at his hands. "I left it in the truck but I could go grab it if you want me to."

"The button up?" Asra asked, frowning. "Why would I want it back? It's yours now. I want you to keep it, that's why I made it your size." He walked over to Muriel, finally getting to sit down and settling beside him. He flicked his hand, pouring himself some of the red wine, then pouring Muriel a glass of blackberry cider..

Asra glanced to Muriel, offering him a little smile as he picked up his own glass. With Inanna said in the middle of the sofa and Muriel taking up a place and a half, Asra was forced to sit close to Muriel, their arms pressed together. He didn't mind, though. He never minded being close with Muriel. Something about the gentle giant just made himself feel safe- he'd melt away into Muriel's warmth and that subtle smell of myrrh if he had the chance to. For now, however, sitting this close would have to be enough.

 

"Tell me if you like it or not, I won't mind if you don't like it."

Muriel nodded a little, flicking his gaze back to the glass in his hand and studying the fizzy, dark liquid for a moment or so before lifting it to his lips for a sip. It was sharp -- deliciously so as the taste danced across his taste buds and the fizz sparkled in his throat. Muriel blinked a little, a slight smile quirking the corner of his lips as he brought the glass back to look at it again.

"What is this again?" he asked, flicking his eyes to Asra a moment before taking another sip. The smell of his drink was powerful enough to block out the scent of Asra's wine -- Muriel found himself thankful for that. "It's good..."

"Blackberry cider?" Asra asked, smiling a little. "Ah, I thought you'd like it. You seem like you'd like blackberries." He leant against Muriel a little more, smiling warmly at feeling Muriel beside him. Was he being subtle enough? He felt like it was getting obvious that he was leaning into Muriel and actively seeking affection.

He took a little sip of his wine. It was rich, strong- a gift that Lucio had given him a while ago as a reward for a job done professionally. He'd not opened it until now, but it didn't taste half bad. He would have offered Muriel some if he didn't know that he hated it. Instead, he just stayed leaning against Muriel as he sipped at his drink.

Muriel stopped mid-sip to look down at Asra, feeling him press closer -- feeling his magic seep further into his skin, settling over his nerves like a warm buzz. As if it had been intoxicating. Muriel tried not to think about it, setting down his blackberry cider onto a costa, and turning away from Asra, letting his hair fall and cover the blush that was steadily picking up across his cheeks.

"Am I taking up too much room?" he asked weakly, swallowing hard. That had to be the reason Asra was so close to him. "I can move to the other chair... or the floor... whatever you want."

"What?" Asra asked, looking up at him. "If I didn't want to sit with you, Muri, I would have sat on the other chair. You're just fine where you are." He pressed a little closer to Muriel, not even thinking enough to realise what he was doing.

He was going to have to get up to serve dinner in a moment, and then he'd need to sit away from Muriel so he'd have enough room to move his arms to eat.  
"How hungry are you?" he asked, looking up at him. "Just so I know how much to serve you."

Muriel shrugged. "I'm not too hungry." No -- he was very hungry. He hadn't eaten since that morning, and his stomach was positively tying itself into knots at the smell wafting in from the kitchen. But it wasn't like he could think straight with Asra pressed so close. "Just a regular plate would be fine..."

He cleared his throat, his head still turned from Asra. The blush had crept up to his ears by then, Asra's magic nice and relaxing as it sank deeper into his system. Muriel could almost feel himself melting -- his shoulders were slumping, his overworked muscles were unwinding. It took everything in him not to lean back into him. Not to sink back into the couch and tip his head onto Asra's shoulders...

Perhaps if it wasn't for that scent of red wine now on Asra's breath, he would have. As much as he hated it, Muriel had to thank that toxic drink.

Asra smiled fondly at Muriel, learning against him still.  
"Alright," he said. "But if you're hungry after eating then feel free to get some more. I made more than enough." He got to his feet, squeezing Muriel's shoulder, and promised he'd be right back.

In the kitchen, he cut two portions from the dish, setting them on colourful plates. The smell of the spices grew richer, stronger, bringing a smile to his lips as it filled him with that subtle wave of nostalgia yet again, that sensation that thrummed in his bones. He was hoping that Muriel would like this, not just because he'd spent so long making it but because it was going to be the first thing he made for Muriel. And he wouldn't doubt that it was the first proper home-cooked meal Muriel had had in a while.

Cutlery lifted from the drawer and settled on the plates he held as he set them on the coffee table. A stool whisked over from the corner of the room and settled by the couch for Asra to sit on to stay close to Muriel.  
"I hope you enjoy this. This is one of my favourite dishes to make."

Muriel watched with a wide eyed wonder as Asra's magic set the coffee table for them, still a bit in awed by the sheer power Asra had in one mere flick of his wrist. He didn't respond to Asra's comment, and he waited for Asra to start eating — to shift his focus onto the food — before he reached for the cutlery. Nice, pure silver fork, and a knife with a handsomely carved handle from white painted wood. Muriel found the need for such nice silverware odd — any old plastic fork and knife could surely do — but he shrugged it aside and awkwardly cut himself off a piece from his plate, ignoring Inanna's curious gaze watching him from the couch.

As quiet and stoic as he tried to remain as he took that first bite, there was no denying Muriel fell in love with the taste as soon as it touched upon his taste buds. His eyes lightened, his hungry stomach leaping at the warm, delectable flavor of Asra's excellent cooking. Where did he learn to do that? Muriel held his tongue and refrained from asking, partly because he didn't want to seem too excited, and because he was already going for another bite.

Inanna, even more interested in Muriel's reaction, began to shift — letting Faust slither off of her before slipping off of the couch and sitting beside the coffee table and Muriel's dish. She gave him an imploring stare and a not so subtle lick of her chops. Muriel couldn't help but smile a bit, his lips still quirked as he turned to Asra.

"Could I give her a bite?" he asked.

"If it's safe for her to eat, sure," he nodded, his eyes fixing on Muriel and the drooling Inanna sat obediently beside him. It was quite a sight, seeing the two of them cosied up. Especially being able to see Muriel sat on his couch, looking content and eating properly. "I don't mind, and there's always more."

He reached out and scratched Inanna's ears, smiling warmly at her as he pulled back. He pretended that he didn't notice how quickly Muriel's demeanour had shifted after tasting his cooking, and he wasn't sure if it was because of the food itself or something else. Either way, he liked seeing Muriel this much more relaxed. The alcohol must have been helping- good. He wanted to make sure Muriel felt as relaxed as possible. He wanted him to feel safe here, because he was sure that he didn't feel perfectly safe in his small home in an area like South End.

"Do you like it? The food, I mean. I was hoping you would, but I wasn't sure if it was going to be something you were used to or not. I didn't know if it was going to be something that you would enjoy, and judging by your face you seem to be liking it but I don't want to assume." He might have been rambling a little. He hadn't eaten much before drinking that wine and it must have loosened his tongue. He couldn't help himself- his natural urge to fuss over Muriel and ensure he was okay was triumphing over his awareness of his words and the usual caution he tried to speak with. "I could fix up something else if you don't like it? Anything you want, really. I'm not going to complain."

Muriel looked at Asra after cutting Inanna a piece and feeding it to her, his brow furrowed and his eyes almost skeptically narrowed.

"It's... uh, it's fine. Good, I mean." Muriel turned back to his plate, his face heating up a little at Asra's earnestness. He couldn't tell why but.... Asra suddenly seemed so eager to please. Eager to please him.

Muriel almost couldn't remember a time someone had been so invested in his own opinions.

"Why are you so-?"

His quiet, hesitant question was cut off by a loud howl of sorts -- the cry of heavy wind sweeping through the city and brushing past Asra's tall building. Both Muriel and Inanna had tensed, his wary question falling short as he leaned up and turned his head to look out one of Asra's grand windows. It was dark outside. Even with the scattered twinkling of city lights, the world seemed inky. The sky was ominous -- no stars, no moon. Just a black abyss of thunderclouds Muriel hadn't even noticed on the drive in.

The wind howled again, rattling the windows. The rain had already begun to patter when Muriel turned around again, his face a little paler than before. Inanna gave a low whine and ducked her head, ears falling flat and her tail curling round the backs of her legs. She didn't like oncoming thunder all that much either.

"Another storm," he said quietly, ducking his head a little. Muriel wouldn't be able to drive home in it -- but by the sound of the rain picking up like bullets against Asra's windows, Muriel didn't think it would let up any time soon.

"Well... I'm not letting you drive home in that," Asra said sternly, looking up at Muriel. "You wouldn't mind staying over, would you? I've got spare bedrooms or you could sleep on the couch, but driving home in the dark and rain... it would be too risky. You know how people get reckless when the weather gets extreme." He took Muriel's hand, looking up at him. "You don't mind, do you? I just... I can't take the risk of letting anything happen to you."

He smiled up at him, trying to reassure him that it was fine, that it wouldn't be any extra effort to let him stay. He hoped that inviting Muriel to stay over would stop him from feeling guilty about it.

"And Inanna has a bed, too, so it'd be no problem. I guess it's pretty lucky that I picked that up today then." He sighed, taking another sip of his wine. It was good- he would have drunk it sooner if he'd known how nice it tasted. It was probably Lucio trying to motivate him to do a good job, subtle manipulation. Giving Asra rewards for average work to encourage him to stay, to keep him from quitting or from snitching. 

 

"You don't mind staying, do you?"

Muriel tensed a little, his eyes widening. He parted his lips to say he would feel better in his own bed -- that if he left soon he might be able to get out of the city before the worst of the storm -- but a magnificent flash of lighting lit up the world outside in a white, crackling web of light. Not soon after in its wake, a crack of thunder shaking Asra's apartment into a steady rattle of sorts. Muriel's eyes had rounded a little at the sound, the thunder like a gunshot, the echo of that powerful explosion fading in the distance with a threatening grumble.

"I guess I have no choice," Muriel mumbled turning back to his plate. He pushed his food around in an almost lackadaisical manner with his fork, ducking his head so Asra couldn't see his worried frown. Muriel wasn't good at sleeping in new places -- as nice as Asra was and as nice as his apartment had been, Muriel didn't think he would get too much sleep. "I... I'm sorry. I didn't know it was going to storm."

"Hey, it's no hassle," Asra said softly, squeezing Muriel's hand to reassure him. "You don't need to apologise. This place... it gets lonely, anyway. I like having you here with me."

Muriel didn't know why that made his chest get so warm.

He got to his feet, his plate empty.  
"I'm going to put my plate away. Are you done or would you like me to get you some more?" He was hoping that Muriel was going to ask for more. He liked hearing that Muriel had enjoyed his cooking and wanted to cook more for him. "I've got some ice cream for dessert. It's just store-bought, I didn't have time to make anything special for dessert, but I'll make something for next time you come over if you want."

Muriel, still a little dazed from Asra's previous comment, blinked a bit and looked down to his plate. He didn't realize it was nearly empty -- he had eaten so much in such little time. Blushing a little, Muriel scooped up his mostly empty plate and offered it up to Asra, shrugging his shoulders.

 

"I guess I could just have some dessert," he said. He was still hungry, of course, but he didn't want to impose or even seem greedy. "Maybe I'll have more later..."

Another clap of thunder, another shake of Asra's apartment. Inanna whined again, ducking her head and butting it into Muriel's leg. He reached a hand over to delicately rub the back of her neck, his brow pitching in concern at her fear. Faust, as it seemed, was just as worried -- slithering up into Muriel's lap and up close to his stomach. Once Asra had taken his plate, Muriel made sure to settle a cautious hand over her too, feeling the way she seized and shivered at a louder snap of thunder outside.

"I think Faust is afraid too," Muriel said quietly, looking up at Asra.

"She's never been a fan of thunder," Asra said, getting up and putting the plates in the kitchen. He set them by the sink, sending a despondent glance to the dish sat by the oven, only about half-eaten. He'd have to reheat it for lunch the following day. He began back through to the living room, turning on the television and opening youtube. He had a big plasma TV, one that had clearly cost him a lot. He went onto his searches and there, near the top, was a suggestion for 'Anxiety music for dogs storms', meaning that he often had to put on some calming music to help Faust when it was thundering.

It wasn't like there was an option for 'therapeutic music for snakes in thunderstorms'.

He put on one of the first suggestions, the music playing softly to soothe between clashes of thunder. Asra turned to look at Muriel, noticing that Faust had curled up around his wrist and wrapped her body around his fingers, her head resting under his thumb so he could pat her scales. His other hand was still occupied with petting Inanna.

"Maybe dessert should wait until later," he said, figuring that Muriel didn't have enough hands to eat dessert. "Is there anything I can do to help Inanna with the thunder? She seems so shaken, I've never quite seen her like that."

He knelt by the sofa, moving his hand to begin stroking along Inanna's back, scratching her fur, smiling at her.

"Hey, sweetie. It's okay. The storm will pass soon."

Muriel watched the way Asra treated Inanna so kindly, a slight smile wanting to twitch up his lips. Instead, Muriel ducked his head, moving his hand down to rub Inanna's chest in slow circles. He shrugged his shoulders a little.

"There's not much to do but let it pass," he said quietly. "Sometimes she hides under the covers and then I have to sleep on the floor... but even then she's scared." Muriel hesitated a moment, cocking his head as he watched Asra comb his fingers up and down the fur of Inanna's back. "I think it has to do with... with whatever happened to her before I found her. Why she's afraid of thunder I mean. I guess she just has... bad memories."

He gave a soft sigh, taking his hand from Inanna and leaning back a little, figuring all the love from both him and Asra might have been too much. Muriel turned down to the snake wrapped around his wrist instead. He awkwardly trailed his finger down her scales, not quite knowing how one should correctly pet a snake -- but she seemed to appreciate it enough, butting her head into his hand every time he pulled away the slightest.

"I didn't know snakes liked... pets," he mumbled quietly, tensing a little at the next clap of thunder. The rain was like a roar by then, relentless against Asra's windows. "Weird..."

"Faust likes the attention," he said, smiling a little. "She's always been affectionate." He watched as Faust coiled a little tighter around Muriel's wrist at the clap of thunder, butting her head into his thumb and flicking her tongue as if a demand for more attention.

Asra moved back for a moment, going to a box beside the couch and opening it, taking out a few colourful blankets. He'd been stockpiling them for no foreseeable reason. He lay a couple over Inanna for her to hide under if she so desired, before smiling as he wrapped one around Muriel's shoulders  
"Just in case you want to hide too," he said with a little playfulness to his voice as Inanna shrunk away under the blanket.

Muriel's eyes widened a little, his cheeks growing warm. He couldn't stop the little quirk of his lips when Asra turned away, though.

"It's nice to see you and Faust getting along so well," Asra murmured. "Does Inanna hide under the blankets often? Vesuvia seems to be pretty prone to storms, I can't imagine it being helpful for her. Do you really let her have the whole bed?" He was smiling like he thought it was a joke. "There's got to be room for both of you on the bed, right?"

Muriel looked up at him, and raised his brow a bit. "I mean... no," he said, tone a bit flat as though he'd been stating basic facts. He nodded towards Inanna, who'd properly burrowed her way beneath the blankets Asra had brought for her. "She's big..." Trailing off, Muriel brought his hand up to the corners of his own blanket and held them together over his chest. "And... uh, I am too."

He shrugged a little when Asra gave him an odd sort of look. "It's fine though. The floor is... fine. And I don't want Inanna's joints to hurt -- she can use the bed sometimes. It doesn't kill me or anything..."

Asra smiled, looking up at Muriel. "Maybe you should get a bigger bed," he said as he sat on the arm of the couch, beside Muriel. He ran a hand through Muriel's hair, just to push it from his face, smiling at him. Maybe he shouldn't have had a few sips of wine before eating. Alcohol on an empty stomach wasn't too good of a decision, and he hadn't touched alcohol in months. Up until their visit to the bar, of course, but he'd eaten before he went there. His alcohol tolerance was getting low.

"Your hair is nice," he murmured, his voice just a little softer than usual. He'd absently begun to tune out the low rumble of thunder to just background noise. "Have you ever thought about putting it up? Tying it back? It'd suit you."

Muriel had been just about ready to answer Asra's suggestion concerning his bed when he felt those gentle fingers brushing against his hair. Skimming across the skin of his face when Asra brushed it back and pushed it behind his ear. He had tensed, blush lighting up from the tips of his ears all the way down to his shoulders as Asra continued on talking. No one had ever called Muriel's hair nice before. No one... no one had ever told him something would suit him before. Not with as much care as Asra had, anyways.

He swallowed hard, turning his head away a bit -- despite the burn of regret that flashed through his system when Asra's touch lost its contact with his face.

"I-... I pull it up when I work. Sometimes." His voice was mumbled and quiet. "It looks stupid. I... I don't look... nothing really suits me, Asra."

"Nothing?" Asra asked, a little frown tugging at his lips as he pulled his hand back properly, having taken Muriel's slight turning away as a hint that he didn't want to be touched. "That can't be true. You look cute in most things." He smiled, leaning on his hand, his eyes fixed on Muriel. Muriel's laugh definitely suited him, but he somehow managed to stop himself from saying that. "You definitely don't look stupid, though. You never look stupid."

Muriel blushed heavily, but he didn't say anything.

He sighed a little, groaning a little as he slid off of the couch. He brushed his hands off on his shirt, glancing at the trembling dog-shaped lump under the blanket with a little frown. He wished he could do a little more for her and for Faust, but there wasn't a lot that he was capable of doing. With the next rumble of thunder, Inanna seemed to let out a little yip of fear and Faust slithered up Muriel's arm, disappearing under his sleeve and hiding away there. Asra smiled a little.

"Faust, baby," he said coaxingly. "You can't hide in there. What if Muriel doesn't want you hiding in there?" He was able to see where she was hiding due to how her scaly skin pressed against the fabric of the shirt. "You can just take her out if you want," he spoke to Muriel this time, smiling. "She won't mind too much, but she might curl up around your hand."

Muriel blinked, feeling the tickle of scales crawl up his arm and disappear beneath his sleeve. He reached his hand up to try and guide her away, but her tail curled round Muriel's bicep and held on tight. Muriel didn't even know he'd been smiling until an accidental laugh bubbled past his lips at her stubbornness. He lifted his hand from Faust to cover his mouth, face somehow worsening in its vibrant shade of red. Despite his embarrassment however, he couldn't find a way to lose the smile. Nor the urge to laugh again when he felt Faust try to squirm a little further up his shirt.

"She doesn't, uh... she doesn't want to," he said, another slight giggle lifting past his words. Muriel ducked his head a little, peeking up at Asra through the parts in his bangs.

"She doesn't want to?" he echoed, unable to stop himself from letting out a soft laugh, too. Muriel's laugh was melodic, it was grumbly and quiet but it was beautiful, and it was contagious. Asra couldn't help the laughter bubbling up around his words after hearing Murieil's sweet laughter. "That's... that sounds about right. Do you want me to get her for you?"

Muriel shrugged his shoulders a little, biting back another little laugh when Faust squeezed his bicep a little tighter. He nodded his head, still blushing like mad.

He moved a little closer, tugging up Muriel's sleeve enough to see the end of a purple tail coiled up about his bicep.

"Faust, sweetie, come on," he said warmly, running his thumb along her scales a few times as if that would convince her- only for her to disappear into his shirt properly, her tail gone from sight within a few seconds as she moved to hide by his chest. It was safer there, she must have thought.

"Muscle!" she announced excitedly, her head appearing out of the collar of Muriel's shirt, eyes shining as she looked over at Asra- who didn't hesitate to try and snatch her while he could, only for her to disappear back into his shirt to avoid being moved.

"Faust, come out from there!" he said, trying to sound authoritative. He couldn't quite manage it, though, still grinning and giddy.

"Warm!"

"Faust! I'm giving you three seconds to come out here or I'm going to go in there and get you myself. Am I making myself clear?"

Muriel looked up at Asra very quickly, eyes shooting open wide. "You're going to what?" he asked, his shoulders rising a bit.

Faust must have felt the sudden picking up of Muriel's heart from where she was nestled against his chest -- she had wormed her way up towards the collar of his shirt, pushing her head through it and pressing her nose into the side of his cheek, tongue flicking out into a kiss of sorts before moving back to curl around the back of his neck. He felt a slight chill scarpe down his spine at the tickle of scales on his neck, but he let her slither about his shoulders until she was out of his shirt completely -- draped around his shoulder instead of coiled somewhere in his shirt.

"Well- uh-... she came out," he said, swallowing hard. Why Asra's comment had shaken him so much, he didn't know. Why it made his heart flutter like that... Muriel didn't know. He didn't even know if he wanted to know. "I guess she likes me..."

"You're big, you said so yourself," Asra said as he picked up Faust, taking her away from Muriel and settling her over his own shoulders, where she had soon disappeared into his shirt instead, spending a few moments travelling under his shirt as she found the best place to curl up and relax. "She likes that. She said you were very muscular."

He felt Faust settling, her tail coiled up around his left bicep and her body draped over his shoulders so her head rested on his right shoulder, poking out of his collar. Her tongue flicked at Muriel. The thunder seemed to have gotten quieter by then, and Inanna's nose was poking out of her blanket.  
"I... we should probably get some rest," Asra said, glancing at Faust. "She must be tired. Today... Today's been pretty busy, and she hasn't gotten to rest in so long. Are you going to be alright sleeping here?"

Muriel's hand had unconsciously drifted to his chest at the muscular comment, but he looked up at Asra when he was asked that question -- taking a moment to register it through all of the left-over flusteredness from before. He blinked a few times, looked down at the couch, and shrugged up his shoulders.

"I could. I'll be fine," he sighed. "I'll just sleep here... I-... I have enough problems sleeping somewhere new-" Muriel winced a little bit, but he continued, head still ducked. "The couch is fine. Better than... better than my bed even."

"You can take a bedroom," Asra said quickly. "I have a spare bedroom. This is just the closest place to my room so if anything happened it would be convenient but I have other places you can sleep." He felt bad only offering Muriel a couch to sleep on- it didn't quite feel fair, he couldn't help himself. He couldn't help but offer an alternative. "Is Inanna comfy here? She can sleep anywhere she wants, too."

He took Faust from where she was getting comfy again, partially to avoid having her fall asleep there and partially to talk to her.

"And do you want to stay with Inanna or sleep in my room again tonight?" he asked, petting the top of her head. Her eyes sparkled as she told Asra she wanted to stay with him, evidently preferring the warmth of her heat lamp to the warmth of Inanna. Besides, she had a nice long to wrap herself around in Asra's room and it wasn't like she could move around lying on Inanna without disturbing her.

"Faust and I will be in my room," he said to Muriel, just to clarify that she'd answered. "Have you decided where you want to sleep?"

Muriel nodded his head. "The couch is fine," he repeated, nodding his head. "I can see the door that way... maybe keep guard... if that makes sense."

He reached for his blackberry cider, finding it a little warm but still tasteful on his tongue as he drained his last couple sips. The rain was still relentless outside, but the thunder had faded into the distance. In fact, Muriel was almost sure it had been crossing over South End by then. His shop would be flooded in the morning -- he hadn't laid out any pots to collect all the rainwater.

"I'll probably leave early tomorrow morning," Muriel said, reaching up a hand to rub the back of his neck. His smile had all but faded, as did his giggly nature from before. "It's a long drive and I need to check on the shop. Make sure that... that man from before didn't show up again."

"You should wake me up before you go if I'm not already up," Asra said. "I want to be able to say goodbye to you. Maybe we could figure out when you could next come over?" He moved to the box by the couch again and took out a couple pillows along with another blanket, handing them to Muriel.

He was ready to get back to his room, but he wanted to make sure Muriel would be comfortable.  
"Any more blankets and pillows are in that box. If you get thirsty or hungry, feel free to rummage around the kitchen. Glasses are in the cabinet above the sink. I always keep the fridge stocked and the cupboards have plenty of snacks for whatever you want. I also have plenty of teabags in case you want some tea- I don't mind. Anything that I have, you can have. If anything is labelled that it's from Julian, however... it'd be in your best interest to leave it. He's not a good cook. The bathroom is down that hall, the first room on the left. My bedroom is the first room on the right."

With Faust climbing back up his arm and settling on his shoulder, Asra offered a smile.  
"Is that everything you think you'll need to know?"

Muriel nodded, hugging the blanket and pillow nice and tight to his chest. "Yeah," he mumbled quietly, shrugging his shoulders a bit. "Yeah... more than I need to know even..."

He trailed off, looking down at the couch. Inanna, soothed by the lack of thunderclaps and lightning strikes, nosed her way from beneath her blanket and peeked up at Muriel. She gave a sniffling huff, pushing up onto her feet and nudging his hand with her nose.

'Say thanks!' she ordered from inside his head.

Muriel's blush lit up some, the color dusting across his cheeks. He ducked his head and rolled his eyes, feeling Inanna's judging stare on him without even having to look. It took a few moments of silence before Muriel sighed, his shoulders lifting a bit, his lips twisting into a bitter sort of frown.

"Thanks," he grumbled. "For... for everything. You're being so nice to me... I don't know why, but you are. Thanks, I guess..."

The simple thanks was more than enough to make Asra's cheeks paint themselves red and a smile to tug at his lips.

"Hey, it's nothing I need to be thanked for," he said warmly. "Just get comfy, alright? I'll see you in the morning. Sleep well."

He scratched between Inanna's ears again and turned to Muriel, patting his bicep.  
"Goodnight, Muriel. Sweet dreams."


	8. His Nightmare

Gunshots rolled in like the thunderstorm still lingering outside of the windows. Gunshots of thunder and flashes of lightning from the barrels of the guns as they fired. They were outnumbered. There were too many of them on all sides, and the only cover that they had was an overturned table. Bullets rained down on them, spritzing the walls behind them and the table they were ducked behind. Reinforced, as Lucio had promised, having warned the two of them that there would be the risk of a shootout. He'd told them which tables they should use for cover, promised them that provided they used the right ones they would be safe.

That step had been easy. It had been civil when they'd entered and stood by the tables that had the little goat head in the corner, the one that indicated that Lucio had interfered or that Lucio's men were meant to be there. He'd stood behind it, fully prepared, with his apprentice at his side.

Asra had been the one to start the meeting as civilly as possible. He'd been the one to begin the discussions, to talk about how Lucio wasn't interested in participating with these other groups, these smaller mafias, any longer. He'd been the one to break the news to them that Lucio was, unfortunately, going to have to terminate their contracts.

And that Lucio was going to have to terminate them to prevent future discussions from being an option.

So Asra had been the first one to shoot. The first to take the gun from his holster and fire. Appra, stood to his left, had been the second to draw their gun and fire. They both had earplugs in, having been preparing for this for hours before this happened. Hence the guns being easy to draw and the excess magazines they carried for reloads.

Asra could still feel the Browning Hi Power in his hand. The balanced weight, the heaviness in his hand and the smoothness of the trigger each time he pulled it. They'd been tasked with only bringing handguns, ones that Lucio had issued, as anything bigger would have aroused suspicions sooner. Since Appra was only recently integrating into the mafia, they were armed with the Colt Model 1911. It was a 7+1 round gun, magazine-fed and semi-automatic, similar to Asra's though his was 13+1 round and single-action.

Due to his higher level in the mafia, Lucio had given him one of the better guns with the same goat mark on the hilt. A dull reminder of where his duty lay, he supposed. Appra's gun didn't have that mark on it, since the Colt models were usually the ones used for dangerous jobs and tossed out after so they couldn't be tied to anything.

Something about Appra having no clear ties to the mafia made him nervous. It made his stomach twist in his chest with some level of guilt that he didn't even process. He should have thought about it for just a few seconds longer. He should have paused and wondered why Lucio was giving Appra a gun that left them with no ties to the mafia. He should have stopped and swapped their guns.

But he didn't. He didn't stop to think. He didn't swap their guns. He didn't do anything, he just let it happen, feeling the same optimism as usual for a job.

With five bullets fired and four people shot, Asra had overturned the table and ducked behind it, watching Appra do the same and get beside him. He couldn't remember what words they shared. He couldn't recall anything- he just remembered seeing the smile on their lips, the excitement in their eyes.

He could vaguely recall telling Appra to conjure a shield when they stood again, like it was a distant memory that only lingered in the back of his mind- either having been repressed or just becoming a background detail. All he knew was that he stood and waved his hand, a full body shield appearing before him, glowing purple. He remembered pulling the trigger, counting each of his remaining eight shots before he'd need to reload.

He remembered shooting seven times, five bullets being lucky. He could see from the corner of his eye as Appra fired. They only had seven bullets, having reloaded once they ducked down, and they emptied their magazine rapidly. Their hand was shaking, though, and it wasn't until they shouted for him that Asra realised where the panic was coming from.

It wasn't until then that he'd noticed that Appra had failed to conjure a shield.

Immediately, he'd begun moving. Fear had gripped him. Panic. Adrenaline. He'd only been a step away from Appra, throwing out his hand to cover them with the shield-

When the bullet whistled through the air and passed cleanly through Appra's head.

A smooth stream of blood followed close behind it as it buried itself into the wall behind Appra, having passed through their skull with worrying ease. Asra could still remember seeing Appra fall to the floor with sickening vividness.

They were dead before they hit the ground. Even Asra knew that, yet still he dropped to his knees behind the cover. He dropped his shield.

 

"Appra!" he could hear a voice shouting, barely able to register that it was his own. He grabbed their shoulders, shaking them as if he expected to hear a response, as if he expected their eyes to fix on him.

Yet, just this once, it worked. He watched, eyes wide and frenzied with panic, as Appra's eyes rolled, turning to fix on him. Those glassy, empty eyes landing on him.

 

"Appra, Appra, please- it- what happened? Your magic? I tried- I tried-"

"You didn't try hard enough."

Their voice sounded foreign. An echo in his head. Those gunshots still rained down, still screaming through the air, so deafening now. It had been years since he'd last heard Appra's voice. He couldn't tell if this was actually how it sounded or if it was distorted with time.

"Appra! Appra, please! Please, I tried to save you! I tried- you should have- you should have stood by me if your magic wasn't working!"

Their lips tugged into a weak smile, blood spilling out of their mouth.

"You let me die. You watched it happen. I would have been fine if anyone else was with me. It's because of you that I'm dead!"

He shook his head, tears spilling down his cheeks, his breathing heavy and uneven yet still feeling so shallow. He felt like he was suffocating.

"It should have been you," Appra said, closing their eyes. Tears of blood spilled down their cheeks, and Asra desperately cupped their cheeks and wiped them away. "You should have died here. You should have been the name on the news."

Asra shook his head, panic sending ice through his veins, the words stinging in his chest and making his heart twist.  
"You can't die. Please! I wish it was me! I'll take your place, just come back!" he begged, feeling so weak, so pathetic.

"It's too late. You killed me. They all blame you. I blame you! Why did you do this to me? Why did you let this happen?"

 

"Appra, please!" The sobs spilled past his lips, hot tears rolling down his cheeks. He watched with blurred vision as Appra picked up their gun, that damned Colt, and pressed it to Asra's forehead.  
"It should have been you," their empty voice said. So empty. So dead.

Asra, those heavy tears rolling down his cheeks, closed his eyes and accepted the inevitable bullet.  
"It should have been me."

BANG

His eyes shot open and he jolted upright, finding himself in his bed, Faust still sleeping in her enclosure. His heart was beating rapidly. He moved one hand to his forehead first, checking where the gun had been resting as if he expected to feel blood dripping down his head. Nothing. Then he moved his hands to wipe his eyes, where the tears were still rolling down his cheeks. He was in a cold sweat, his body trembling, still gasping for breath.

He didn't have a dream like that often. In fact, he hadn't dreamt of that night in months. Was it the mention of it on the news that had shocked him? Had that made him relapse?

It didn't matter.

He didn't want to think about it anymore.

Quietly, as not to disturb Faust, he slipped out of bed and began slowly to the door. Tears were still running down his cheeks and he was still trembling, wearing only a nightshirt and boxers to sleep in. He was hoping Muriel was asleep, not wanting to distract him from his rest because of some pathetic nightmare.

He took slow, quiet steps through the hall, slowly past the couch and to the kitchen, where he flicked the light on. It was cool in here, something desperately needed. He was just going to make himself a cup of tea and go to sleep, so he filled up the kettle and flicked his hand, a small burst of energy flicking into the kettle and starting to boil the water, before getting out his favourite mug. It was a plain white cup, but around the bottom was a coiled up snake, whose head and upper body was used as the handle. Appra had given it to him about two years before that damn shootout, and he'd used it almost every day since. It had sat in the back of his cupboard for a while now, though.

He just supposed it felt right to use it now. Fitting, in some fucked up kind of way.

He'd just have a sugary cup of lapsang souchong and then he'd go back to bed. If Muriel wasn't here, he'd smoke as many blunts as he could until he couldn't even remember his own name and kick back in his room to ride out his high for as long as it lasted, ignoring every phone call or text he got, whether it was from work or friends.

 

That was how he usually dealt with these things, anyway. It wasn't a good coping method by any means, but it was the best one that he had available to him. And it was the most efficient thing he had when it came to clearing his head.

He sighed a little, wiping his eyes with the palms of his hands, still able to feel the residue of those tears around his puffy eyes. He'd have to wash his face before going back to bed.

He got out a tea strainer, filling it with tea leaves from an almost-empty pack labelled 'lapsang souchong' and setting it in the mug. He added three spoonfuls of sugar and set the milk down by the mug, now just waiting for the kettle to boil.

Of course, despite his best efforts to be quiet, he could already hear the soft tapping of Inanna's footsteps against the hardwood floor as she came toward the kitchen.

"Sorry, Inanna," he said softly as he watched her come into the kitchen, letting out a little huff of air through her nose. "Was I too loud or were the lights too bright? It's just me. You can go to sleep again if you want."

"Asra...?"

Muriel's sleepy voice came from the couch, the back of his hand rubbing at his eyes as his other hand began to push him up from the soft cushion of the couch.

He'd been awake since he heard the soft creaks of Asra's floorboards beneath his footsteps. Muriel was a light sleeper -- especially when sleeping in a house that wasn't his own. He had been tossing and turning all night long, stirred by a forlorn howl of the wind outside or the low rattle of the AC kicking on. Even the ice machine of Asra's freezer had managed to wake him up once. Asra's footsteps were no different -- only then he felt himself tense at the sound, rationality a bit skewed with the haze of sleep muddling his senses.

His first thought was that Asra was being robbed, of course, so he froze up. He listened to the footsteps make their way to the kitchen, and saw the lights go on from the corner of his eyes. Twice he thought about leaning up to see what had been happening -- why he could hear sniffles and the hitched breaths of hushed sobs underneath the sounds of the kitchen -- but both times he stayed still. It wasn't until Inanna, with a huff of her nose, stood up to go investigate for him that he moved. Muriel lifted his head and shook it when she walked off, but Inanna ignored him, rounding the turn and disappearing behind Asra's cabinets. Moments later, Muriel felt his system relax at the sound of Asra's tired, nasally voice in the kitchen.

"What are you doing...?" Muriel continued, sighing a little as he shifted upright on the couch -- still rubbing his eyes.

Judging by the stillness of the inky night outside, it could have been the early hours of the morning. One or two. Perhaps even three. He took his hand from his eyes and blinked a little, before tipping his head up to look at Asra in the kitchen. It was then he noticed how pink and flushed Asra's face had been -- how puffed and irritated his eyes were.

He tensed again, leaning up even more. "Are you okay?" Muriel's words were less slurred. "Are you hurt?"

 

There were a few moments of quiet. Asra didn't know how to respond. Honesty could lead to more questions and he wouldn't want to tell Muriel what his nightmare had been about. Even if he could have relived that enough to tell Muriel without breaking down again, he didn't want to risk telling Muriel about any incidents like that.

"I'm fine," he said after a few moments. "I had a bad dream, is all. I'm just a little shaken up so I wanted to get some tea before I went back to bed." He supposed that it wouldn't hurt to be that honest, so long as he didn't go into any more details.

The kettle clicked and he picked it up, filling his mug with boiling water.  
"I didn't wake you up, did I?' He already knew he did, there wasn't much else that could have woken Muriel up in the late-night silence, but he didn't want the conversation to fall into silence and he didn't want to leave it on the note of his nightmare. He'd much rather focus the attention onto Muriel while he poured the milk into his mug.

Muriel parted his lips to respond, but he couldn't find his words in time. Did he say something about Asra's dream? Did he try to comfort him -- and if so how? Muriel knew what it was like to have nightmares... but he didn't know what it was like to be comforted after them, let alone what it was like to comfort someone else. There were a few ticks of silence as Muriel struggled with his inner dilemma. He broke it with a sigh, and a slight slump of his shoulders.

"No. I... I mean yeah you did but-... I'm a light sleeper," Muriel said, stuttering a little. "The ice machine even woke me up a while ago... it's fine."

Another lull of silence. Muriel's eyes flicked to the floor, his brow pitching with worry. It was now or never...

"I'm sorry about your nightmare," Muriel blurted, not knowing what else to say. "If you're... if you're too afraid to go back to sleep I-... I could stay up too." He closed his eyes and shook his head. "Not saying you are afraid or-... or whatever I just meant-... I mean I know what it feels like to... whatever. You know what I'm trying to say... I hope..."

"I know," Asra said with a small smile, taking his mug and leaving the kitchen. He turned off the light and instead held out his other hand, letting a small light conjure in the palm of his hand, starting to flicker. He didn't want to turn on the lights themselves, knowing that that would be too bright and he wouldn't be able to sleep again after, so instead he flicked out his fingers and several candles across the room, on the mantle and the coffee table, were lit. The fireplace began to crackle after only a few moments, too, glowing with a soft amber light. Asra let his own light die out and turned to look at Muriel.

"I'll go to sleep in a bit," he promised him. "But I need some time to stay up so I can remind myself that that was all a dream. You know? I'd like the company, if you were offering some."

Muriel looked around at all the candles, the flickering spots of fire all dancing in his eyes as he gazed at them. "Yeah," he said, nodding -- once again not knowing what to say. "I could give you the... company."

He shifted to the side, pulling back the blankets to make room for Asra. He was still in his jeans and shirt, not feeling comfortable enough to remove either in someone else's house. His boots were settled beside the couch, near Inanna's bed and blankets. She had nestled herself back in her spot of slumber the moment Muriel was assured there hadn't been a robbery in process, watching the two of them with smug eyes, her tail wagging gently on the other side of the bed.

"Have you slept well? I hope my couch has been comfy for you. It's not too small or anything, is it?" he asked, looking over at Muriel. He sipped his tea, sighing a little at the taste. It definitely helped to relax him. Maybe not as much as some other herbal remedies, but the soft smell of myrrh that drifted from Muriel added to the warm drink in his hands was more than enough for him.

He moved to sit a little closer to Muriel, leaning against him for support and closing his eyes, still sipping at his tea.  
"If it's not enough, you can still move to another room. There's plenty of room in my bed if you're worried about me."

Muriel blushed, looking down at him. "Y-your bed?" Muriel asked in a splutter. He could feel Asra's body against his, small in comparison -- leaned against his bicep, spreading warmth and electricity up and down Muriel's arm and across his chest. "I'm too big... I'd take up too much room." That final murmur was added on when he turned his head, eyes on the floor.

He reached up the arm that Asra hadn't been leaned on and ran his fingers through his messy hair. It had been a bit messed from all his tossing and turning -- Muriel didn't even realize it until then with Asra all pressed up against him.

"I slept... fine," he said, nodding his head. "The couch is fine. It's just loud here... different. But like I said I'm a light sleeper -- it's my fault."

"Alright," he said softly, sighing as he took another sip. "And you don't want any tea? I've got tea, hot chocolate, anything." He looked up at Muriel, offering out his drink. "Or you could try some of mine? It's pretty good, but it's got a lot of sugar in so I'm not sure how you'll like it if you aren't a fan of sweet things."

"I'm okay," Muriel sighed, shrugging his free shoulder.

Asra glanced up at Muriel, smiling. His hair was sticking up awkwardly, even as Muriel tried to tame it, which was pretty cute.  
"Thanks for letting me keep you here overnight. I was too worried about something going wrong while you drove home. And with Inanna being scared of thunder I think I chose the best thing to do. You don't mind staying here, do you?" He knew he was asking a lot of questions, but he wanted to make sure that Muriel was okay. He was so worried about Muriel and whether or not he was comfortable here. He just wanted to make sure Muriel felt safe and at home.

Muriel gave him a glance, finally done messing with his already tangled locks.

"I'm okay," Muriel repeated, dully noticing just how dry his conversation skills were beginning to seem. He swallowed hard and looked down at the floor, trying to find something smart to say. "I mean, I don't usually like sleeping in new places... but... this hasn't been that bad."

'Charming.'

Inanna's sarcastic voice echoed in his mind, the magic warming his system with the same buzz as Asra's. Muriel shot her a narrowed eyed stare, and earned a not-so apologetic thump of her tail in response. He shook his head a little, and turned back to Asra, face flushed with a little more pink from before.

"It hasn't been that bad," Muriel repeated. "At least... I've had worse places to sleep before."

"Do you want to try and rephrase that again?" Asra asked, biting back laughter. "Maybe in a way that sounds like a compliment?"

Muriel blushed, frowning a little. He shrugged his shoulders and looked away, but he couldn't deny the tug of his lips as they tried to smile.

He knew what Muriel meant. He knew what he was trying to say, but listening to him bumble over his words as he tried to phrase his compliment the right way was cute- especially when he still wasn't getting it right.   
"I know what you mean, though. I'm glad you're alright here. So you've got work tomorrow, right? Are you free in the evening or have you got something else that you're planning on doing tomorrow? I might have work but if I don't I could text you and we could meet up again?"

Blinking, Muriel looked back to him. "You want to hang out with me?" he asked, nearly dumbfounded. "A-again? Aren't you... I don't know... tired of me?"

"Should I be?" Asra asked, offering a smile. "I like you, and I like to spend time with you. If I can spend days with Julian before I get tired of him, I could spend months with you."

Face a deep red, Muriel looked down to the floor, his throat clicking a little when he swallowed.

"I-... I mean I would want to hang out with you- I mean I do want to-" he cut himself off with a sigh and a slight roll of his eyes. Why couldn't he just talk? Why was it him who grew tongue tied and not the cool, collected Asra... who felt so nice against him... so close...

Muriel snapped the thoughts off clean in their tracks and continued.

"I have a lot to do at the shop tomorrow," he said, shaking his head a little. The tips of his ears were still red. "It's probably messy and wet from the rain... and then I need to clean and prime your car. And then I want to finish taking apart the car that guy dropped off... there's too much to do." Muriel reached his hand up to rub the back of his neck. "I'll probably be busy until nightfall." 

He leaned up a little, turning to face Asra. His voice dropped to a mumble when he spoke again.

"But... if I had time, you know... I would." He flicked his eyes down, his next few words nothing but a grumble. "I like spending time with you, too. I guess."

Asra smiled, moving one hand to brush Muriel's hair from his face again, tucking it behind his ear.  
"Then we'll see when we're next both free. You can text me anytime, whether you want some help or just some company, and I'll be over as soon as I'm available."

He pulled his hand back, smiling at Muriel. The softness that Muriel spoke to him with was comforting. Reassuring. It felt like Muriel was dropping his guard exclusively for him, just for them and their little pocket of intimacy.

Maybe having nightmares wouldn't be so bad if he'd have Muriel here to help him afterwards.

Muriel nodded a little, eyes still averted to the floor. "Okay," he said, shrugging his free shoulder again. He unconsciously lifted his hand and tucked strands of hair on the other side of his head behind his ear. "Thanks... I guess..."

He leaned back a little into the back of the couch, his posture a bit more relaxed. Asra was still leaned against him, sipping on that mug of sweet smelling tea. The pink puffiness of his cheeks seemed to have died down, his sniffles less prevalent, his eyes less bloodshot. Muriel quietly hoped that he had helped some -- even if it was just a little. Perhaps his awkward conversation skills were enough to distract Asra from... from whatever could be scary enough to make him cry.

"Do you, uh... do you feel a little better?" Muriel asked, looking at him.

"A bit," he shrugged, leaning against Muriel. "Thanks. I wouldn't be feeling this much better for a few hours if it weren't for you."

He could even hear the softness in Muriel's voice. The concern. He wasn't sure what he could infer from that, but it made him feel a little more important to Muriel to hear him talk in that soft tone. He leant a little closer to him, closing his eyes and letting himself relax with that soft scent of myrrh surrounding him. He could fall asleep right there if he wasn't careful. As odd as it was to sleep with someone else in the apartment after so long, he had to admit that he hadn't felt so relaxed in a long time.

"I should get some more rest, though. I don't know if I'm going to get called into work in the morning or not and I can't take the risk of being tired on the job when I don't even know what I could be doing. Especially not if Julian's going to be drunk in the morning."

Muriel made a face. "Drunk in the morning?" he asked, frowning. The one time Muriel had ever been really drunk had been the other night -- he couldn't imagine being in such a state the morning after. The mere thought made his stomach churn a bit. "Well... okay. You should go to bed. I'll just stay out here."

He paused a moment, thinking.

"Do you still want me to wake you up before I leave? I mean... you've already lost enough sleep..."

"I'd like to be woken up when you leave, yeah. Or at least to be left a note to say that you're gone. Would that be alright? You don't mind that, do you? You could just text me." He drained the rest of his cup of tea and set it down on the coffee table, murmuring something about dealing with it in the morning.

Muriel shrugged. His hand absent hand up to where Asra had been laying, feeling the resident warmth of the contact's ghost.

"I could just leave a note," he mumbled.

"Sleep well," he said, dusting off a little. "Hopefully I won't wake you up again. I'll see you in the morning, and if I don't I'll text you when I wake up. Goodnight, Muriel. And, again, thank you for keeping me company."

With that, and a little wave, Asra disappeared back around the corner and returned to his room, where Faust was still sleeping and he could return to bed. He opened the window beside his bed and left the curtains open so that when he laid down, while he was waiting to doze off again, he could look at the starry night outside his window.

Muriel watched him go, his hand still on his arm where Asra had been leant against. He tried to shake off the slight pull in his system -- how his heart stretched like pulling taffy more and more as Asra's warmth faded from his skin. It took a moment or so for him to successfully lose whatever that feeling had been, his brow furrowed as he shifted around on the couch. Muriel spread the blankets out again, and settled back down, head tipped up towards the ceiling, watching nothing in particular as he listened to the wind blow about Asra's tall building.

It was then he noticed how prevalent Asra's smell had been to those blankets on top of him.

Sweet like the tea he drank, sharp with fruity body wash, relaxing with a sort of herbal undertone -- something like the myrrh Muriel burned in his apartment, but not as blanketing. Muriel unconsciously pulled the blanket a little tighter around himself, bunching it in his fists and pulling it nearly up to his chin. The smell of Asra calmed him into a state of drowsiness, his eyelids sinking lower and lower as the wind whispered against the windows outside...

Muriel fell asleep, and he didn't wake up again -- not until the light broke past the curtains of Asra's windows, and Inanna had been nudging him with her snout.

As expected, Muriel left quietly — without so much of a trace, really, excluding the note he left on the couch. He folded all of Asra's blankets up into a neat pile and left them on the couch, and cleaned up all the glasses Asra had left out to deal with in the morning. He had to look around a bit to find a pen and pencil, but there was a notepad magnetically stuck to the fridge for writing shopping lists so Muriel didn't have to look through any drawers.

He wrote a quick little note, scrawling out that his phone had died and he would text when he got to the shop. He begrudgingly made sure to thank Asra again for everything, writing down that Inanna said thanks as well. Muriel ended the note with a quick signature, the pen hestating a moment or so on the paper when he remembered the little heart Asra had given him when they first met...

Muriel decided against it at the last minute, blushing as he tore the paper from the pad and set it down against the kitchen counter. He collected his boots and waited to put them on until he slipped out the door, not wanting to wake Asra with his footsteps. Luckily, the hall was empty when he did leave — as was the lobby aside from the person at the desk, who watched him and his wolf warily as he stepped past. He crossed the street, heading towards his car with his hands in his pockets and Inanna on his heels. Just as he was about to open up his door, he spotted something sitting on his windshield, tucked beneath the wipers.

A parking ticket.

Muriel groaned, plucking it up and holding in his hand, eyes narrowed as he leaned in to read it. He should have remembered his pay only lasted for three hours — the meter ran out sometime during the storm. He sighed bitterly, stuffing the ticket into his pocket as he opened up his door. Inanna hopped in first so she could get into her passenger seat, offering him a nervous stare as he clambered in to his own seat.

It didn't matter. It was just sixty bucks. He'd have more than enough once he sold the parts of that new car. And when Asra paid him for the paint job. It didn't matter.

Besides... Muriel couldn't deny it might have even been worth spending a night at Asra's.


	9. Bad Luck

Muriel, despite leaving so early from Asra's place, ended up at his shop about an hour and thirty minutes too late.

And it was all because of that damn ticket.

He wanted to pay it off as soon as he could, so Muriel begrudgingly headed towards the cities closest courthouse to pay off his ticket in cash. Muriel had it in his pocket anyways -- the latest tip Asra had left him -- so he didn't see any trouble in it.

The flaw in Muriel's plan, however, came from his lack of knowledge of government and law, and how painstakingly slow each and every process was.

By the time he had left the courthouse, he had waited in three lines, been sat in an uncomfortable chair for about thirty minutes, earned multiple wary stares, and had lost himself a hundred and twenty bucks out of his pocket. Sixty for the ticket, thirty for the parking outside of the courthouse, and another thirty for an application for a familiar permit -- the man at the desk strongly suggested he got one for Inanna. Strongly suggested meaning he would kick Muriel and Inanna out if she didn't have the proper papers, unless of course Muriel was in the process of getting them.

That left him with nothing but a measly three-fifty left over from Asra's tip. Barely enough to cover a payment -- that was if Lucio hadn't bumped up the price to six hundred again. But it was okay. Muriel assured that to himself as he drove through the wet, rained on streets of South End, they sky above still cloudy and grey. He had the money under his mattress to cover him for the next two payments, and Asra's paint job was going to make him a lot more than three hundred dollars. Not to mention the parts from that car the stranger left were going to help as-

Muriel jerked his truck to a stop when he turned the corner of his shop, his eyes shooting open wide as he scanned his parking lot. Inanna gave a yip of surprise, and Muriel's truck gave a groan somewhere down in its gears at the abrupt break, but Muriel hadn't been listening.

The car- that stranger's car... it was gone.

Nervously, Muriel eased his foot off the breaks and the truck rolled its painstaking way forwards, spluttering as Muriel parked it in his usual spot and turned the engine off with one twist of the keys. He pushed his door open quickly, eyes still on that empty spot where the Chevy had been as he made his way over to the garage door. Muriel looked down at the chained lock -- secure. Perfectly so. He still looked around his wet garage when he pulled the loud door open, eyes narrowed as they scanned each and every corner for anything missing.

Nothing but rainwater and the usual tools.

And Asra's car, of course, sanded and waiting for primer.

Muriel frowned, reaching a hand up to rub the back of his neck a bit nervously as he turned, scanning the road. It was still too early for the usual pedestrians or the teens that would skate by on their boards or even the younger kids who'd occasionally ride past on old, hand-me-down bicycles. It wasn't too early for the birds, however. They landed beside puddles of rainwater to look for worms and partake in the occasional splash. Muriel watched them a moment or so, letting the tension in his shoulders relax.

He had left the keys in the glove box. It was likely just... stolen. Perhaps the stranger came back and took it once Muriel rid the old Chevy of its license plates. Muriel just decided he was lucky it wasn't a clients. Lucky it wasn't Asra's. Whoever had it could use it better than he could, anyways. He was just going to take it apart for money.

Ah, money. He needed that, though.

All Muriel could do was sigh like he'd done with that damned parking ticket. Bad luck was just bad luck, he supposed. At least he could get back to work on Asra's car, and pray he'd never see that bloodied stranger again.

The rest of Muriel's work day was considerably uneventful. He texted back and forth with Asra a little, nothing but meaningless conversation about how he had gotten to the shop fine and how Asra was thankful and guilty Muriel had cleaned up for him. Muriel left out any information concerning the parking ticket though, figuring it was none of Asra's concern. Nothing he should be worried about, anyways. The last thing Muriel wanted was Asra giving him more money out of his wallet than necessary. Again.

He cleaned off Asra's car of all the excess color and dust left over from sanding, and then he coated it in a layer of primer -- stopping by the nearby drugstore to pick up a Cherry Cola while he waited for it to dry. He knew it would take hours for it to dry enough for the first coat of paint, so Muriel took his time enjoying the guilty pleasure. The soda was nice in the humid heat of post-rain South End, cool and fizzy on his throat as he sat back in his lawn chair and watched the birds in the street and the grassy sidewalks.

He'd been mixing the paint with thinners a few hours later when a familiar Pontiac pulled into his parking lot. Muriel leaned up from his table and pulled the mask from his face, sighing a little as he watched his reliable customer and her son leave her car. She seemed happy as she walked up to him, her eyes bright and her hands balled into excited fists before her. The little boy had an old robot toy in his hand, waving it as he walked as though he pretended it was flying.

"Muriel! I've got good news," she chirped stepping up to the garage. She stopped right outside of it, which meant she wanted Muriel to step forwards. He tiredly did so, setting down the paint sprayer upon the table. Inanna, whose pile of blankets had been moved outside due to the smell of the primer and the paints, stood up and hurried to Muriel's side, plopping down and offering the woman and her son a smile and a lolling tongue. "My credit score is finally good enough to get a new car! I have a meeting with a dealership this Sunday -- I wondered if I could get a few opinions on some good brands?"

Muriel blinked at her. "You wanted my opinion...?" he asked, cocking his head.

"Sure! You're the only one around here who knows a thing or two about cars, hm?"

There was a pause as Muriel thought about it. "I guess so," he mumbled, shrugging his shoulders. "What are you thinking about getting?"

Their conversation lasted about fifteen minutes. He told her the pros and cons of each of her favorite picks in a quiet tone, his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes on the lot as he spoke to her. They managed to narrow it down to her top three choices, all while the little boy and Inanna played with his little robot on the pavement -- the curious wolf following his spaceship as he buzzed it around her head, landing it on her back with the announcement he'd landed upon 'Planet Wolf'. Muriel couldn't deny he liked the sight of Inanna so happy. Her eyes were round and calm whenever he'd flick his gaze over to the strange pair, her tail thumping upon the pavement of the lot whenever the boy's voice got higher in pitch or enthusiasm.

"You seem to be in a good mood," the woman said finally, clicking off her phone. She'd been using it to show him pictures of all the cars she wanted. "Did something happen? Oh- did you go on a date with that white haired boy? What was his name?"

Muriel's eyes shot open wide. "Asra?" he nearly squeaked. "I-... I didn't go- what would make you think that I would want to-" He cut off his desperate splutters when the older woman offered a quiet laugh at his trouble, his lips curling into a frown. "I did not go on a date."

She held up her hands. "Alright, alright," she hummed, shaking her head. "But Muriel, I've never seen you blush so much. And you blush a lot-"

"-I do not-" Muriel cut in, a hand reaching up to conceal his heated features.

"-not to mention you actually smiled a little during our conversation," she continued. "Kind of like you smiled the other day when you saw him pull into the shop."

Muriel was quiet a moment or so, his eyes on the ground, his shoulders high and his features twisted into a broody scowl. There was a long pause -- a pause where he could feel her eyes on him quite presently. It took a few moments of that silence to get him to break.

"I might have stayed over his apartment last night," he grumbled, jaw muscles pulsing. "But it wasn't a date."

The woman nodded, starting her way back to the car. "Sure it wasn't, Muriel," she hummed, the sarcasm in her tone making Muriel want to sink into the asphalt and disappear. She called for her son, who had been rubbing Inanna's stomach with quiet, childish coos about how she'd been a good girl, and nodded towards the car. "I have work so I have to go. But I'm happy for you Muriel -- you deserve a little love for everything you do for us around here."

Muriel blinked, the comment striking him deep for some reason. Especially at the word love.

The little boy waved Inanna goodbye and ran up to their car, clambering into the backseat and waving to the wolf again, who had trotted her way back up to Muriel's side. The woman called her own goodbye to Muriel before shutting her own door, but Muriel couldn;t quite respond, his mind working hard to process the woman's words. He could barely even wave when she drove away, only managing to a numb hand as she turned the corner.

You deserve a little love.

Muriel didn't know why, but the thought made him smile a little. Even if he didn't quite believe it.

By the time Muriel had successfully finished the first coat of blue on Asra's Jeep, the world was dark. Night had fallen, draping over South End like a blanket. Again, there were no stars nor moon twinkling above the shop -- all hidden with the leftover thunderclouds from the night before. All of the weather channels on Muriel's old radio told him it would rain again that night. A slight thunderstorm would pass over the city, but only for an hour or so at most. All Muriel worried about was Faust, and perhaps Asra's nightmare.

Maybe he'd text again... just to be sure...

It had just started to sprinkle when Muriel closed up the garage door, clocking it tightly with those chains. He set up all the necessary pots and pans for collecting rainwater before he left, making sure Asra's car was backed into one of the higher spots in the garage so it wouldn't get touched by any sort of flooding. He left with a patter of rainwater crating a white noise of ambient rhythm of pattering upon his windshield. At one of the lights, Muriel even leaned forwards and turned on the radio, switching it over to his favorite station. Slow guitars sang to him through busted speakers as he rolled his way through South End, driving his way beneath rusted yellow traffic lights and past graffitied stop signs all the way to his apartment building. Muriel might have even begun to hum along to it...

Maybe that woman was right. He was in a good mood.

The apartment building was quiet when he got home. The man in the lobby greeted him, not bothering to ask where he'd been the night before and all morning -- knowing he wouldn't get a real answer. Muriel stepped past the small, claustrophobic elevator, and continued up the stairwell instead, making it way to the second floor. He ducked under the low doorway of the stairwell.

He winded past the usual creaky spots in the halls. He gave his neighbor's door a cursory glance, feeling their loud music through the vibrations alone as they rattled the walls with their bass speakers just like every night before that. He reached into his back pocket for his keys, and then reached his hand forwards to unlock his door...

But then he stopped, a thrumming beat of confusion passing through him.

The door.

It was open.

Not quite open, actually, but askew. Cracked. Muriel looked at it a moment, his brow furrowing as he brought his hand back. His eyes trailed down the side of it, catching sight of chunks of wood splintered off from the doorframe. Like it had been broken. Like... like the door had been kicked in...

Muriel's heart sank.

He didn't think. He just moved. The keys fell from his hands and clattered onto the floor as he stepped forwards, placing his hand on the door and pushing it in with the slow creak of the old hinges. Muriel's other hand swept across the wall, his fingers catching onto the switch and flicking on the main ceiling light. Dull yellow bathed Muriel's previously shadowed apartment with nothing but a splutter of a bulb, exposing everything to him in a mere instant.

Muriel's whole body could have been submerged in frigid water. That would have hurt less, at least.

It was a mess.

There was too much to notice, too much to see -- too much for him to decide what to look at first. Did he look at the shards of twinkling glass spread about the floor, shattered from the windows and the light bulbs and the plates from every broken cabinet or shelf? Did he look at the turned over table and its splintered legs? Or the fridge laid out on its side, spilling anything he had inside of it across the floorboards? Did he look at the tipped garbage can and all of its nasty contents? The tears in the wallpapers? The empty beer bottles Muriel knew he didn't have sprinkled about the room? The shredded mattress?

The mattress?

"No," Muriel nearly whimpered, finally managing a way to get his numb body to move. "No- no, no, no, no-"

He stumbled his way to the bed. The broken frame, the torn mattress, the stuffing of it, the springs. His frantic eyes searched the wreckage, desperate as that repeated mantra of 'no' left his trembling lips.

No money. Nothing.

Muriel dropped to his knees, glass crunching beneath his weight. Trembling hands reached down for what was left of his bed, rifling through it for his money. There was nothing there but stuffing and wood -- he dug until his hands met the floor, nothing to prove for it except the bitter swear that snapped past his lips.

He shifted backward, catching himself with his hands behind his back. Pain sliced at his palms, causing his already tense body to flinch. When he pulled his hands back up, he found them already bloody, stuck with small shards of glass. A soft whimper left him as he curled those hands into fists and brought them to his chest, face pale and eyes panicked as he whipped his desperate stare around his single roomed apartment. His eyes caught on something paper -- his heart leaping at the thought of money as he reached out and snatched it up from the glass and garbage.

It was too big to be money. Muriel almost tossed it aside, but he caught sight of unfamiliar handwriting. Blood from his fingers already began seeping through the paper. He brought it close with trembling hands, splitting vision struggling to read it. He managed to catch bits and pieces before blinking hard and running through the whole thing.

'I wasn't going to do anything like this, but I did some digging and decided if anyone deserved it, it's you. Thanks for the money, Scourge.

-p.s: decided to take my car back. Hope you don't mind. Tell Asra I said hi :)'

Muriel stared blankly at the note for a moment or two, his eyes wide, his body trembling worse than before. He lifted a hand to his face without thinking, warm, fresh blood touching his skin. His lips. He brought his hand away quickly, eyes snapping shut as his breath began to hitch. His stomach turned over, his throat bobbing. Muriel was going to be sick.

Somehow, he managed to scramble to his feet and stagger to the bathroom before he was, collapsing beside the toilet and emptied his stomach -- sitting upon broken glass and the shredded remains of his shower curtain. All he could think about was the money. The money. The money for the payments- for Lucio. Payments on Tuesday.

Tomorrow was Tuesday!

He wouldn't be able to pay it. Not with three fifty. Not with Lucio bumping up the price. Tomorrow was payment day and he had nothing but a lousy three fifty. Ludovico would have that satisfaction of dragging him into the city. Tomorrow was payment day and Muriel lost whatever money he had for the next two payment days after that. He had nothing.

Something cool pressed against his arm. Muriel flinched and whipped around, teary eyes wide as they landed upon Inanna beside him. She stood upon broken glass, her tail tucked between her legs, her worried snout pressed against Muriel's arm. He wanted to tell her to go away -- that she'd cut herself on the glass like he did -- but Muriel couldn't find a voice. In fact, he couldn't find a breath. His throat ached as he struggled to breathe, chest heaving like he'd just run a marathon.

Inanna nudged him again. 'Help.' Her voice was suddenly the only constant in Muriel's panicking brain. 'We need help.'

Muriel swallowed hard, trying to think of how to respond. "W... who...?"

'Police?' she suggested.

He shook his head fast, snapping his eyes closed. "No cops," he whimpered. "No-n-no... I can't-"

Inanna cut him off with another suggestion, her nose once again supportively pressed against Muriel's arm.

'Asra!'

Muriel stopped shaking his head, his body jolting to a sudden stop at the sound of Asra's name cascading about his head. He froze, eyes fluttering open, staring blankly at the messed, cracked tiles of his bathroom. Asra... suddenly the name sounded so alluring. So helpful. A beacon of chance in whatever abyss of panic Muriel had been submerged in.

He sat still for a moment, hearing the echo of Inanna's suggestion twirl in his brain...

And then the next thing he knew, he was in his truck, pressing his foot on the gas as his bloody hands gripped the steering wheel as tight as they could manage and the man in his apartment lobby waved at him to stop from the parking lot.

It was raining hard by then.

~~~

"Sir? Sir- sir, please. Stop!"

Muriel ignored the voice. That or he still couldn't properly hear anything. Everything was fuzzy -- hs head, his hearing, his eyesight. The blood smeared about his hands and his frighteningly pale skin was a bright red constant against the blur. His gaze had been focused upon that as he continued forwards, Inanna at his side, guiding him through the empty lobby of Asra's apartment.

Well, almost empty.

The man that had been at the desk called for him again, the scrambling sound of footsteps sounding out behind him.

"Sir, you're bleeding- and-and soaking wet and... you can't have that familiar in this building unless you're a paying customer!"

Muriel could hear him getting closer. He ducked his head and tried to keep going, dazedly wondering why Inanna was a problem all of a sudden. Didn't Asra pay the desk off?

The voice was just beside him when it spoke up again. "Please stop, sir!" Muriel felt something touch the side of his arm. "Are you even-?"

"Don't touch me," Muriel said pulling away -- his voice tight, pulled taut like a rubber band. He had jolted into a stop at the contact, his whole body flushing with dread when he felt that man's fingers curl around his forearm. Luckily, when he wrenched away the man backed up, lifting both hands up beside his head in what had to be fright. Muriel's eyes were glassy when he focused them on the bellhop before him, finally stopped and turned around. "Don't... please don't touch me. Please."

The man nodded, taking a step backwards. "I won't," he said, shaking his head. His voice was pitched with a slight fear -- it made Muriel's head hurt and his stomach turn all the more than they already had been. "I-... what do you want? Why are you here?"

Muriel took a moment to answer, almost like he forgot what he meant to say.

"I need help," he said in a near whisper. "I came... I came to see Asra. He knows... he knows me. I'm his..." Muriel trailed off, eyes drifting down to his bloodied hands. "Car mechanic."

"Well, sir, I'm sure Asra is asleep right now. I doubt he'll want company." The man spoke as though he'd been in the company of a child. Or a madman. Muriel felt his chest tighten even more at the thought, his fuzzy mind aching with guilt he couldn't afford to feel right then and right there. "You- you're bleeding really bad, sir. You might want to go somewhere else. Maybe a hospital? You're also... soaking wet... so is your familiar."

Were they? Muriel looked down at himself, finally feeling the deep shiver that racked him down to his very bones. His outfit was soaked, his hair matted with rainwater and stuck to his face. Inanna was shaggy and dripping too when he looked over to her.

"Maybe you should go somewhere else, sir. This is a refined hotel. Not a... shelter. Coming here was a mistake, I'm afraid."

Muriel bottom lip trembled. "This was a mistake...?" he repeated weakly, a dismal sense of rationality creeping over him. Tightening around his chest and his heart like barbed wire.

"Yes. Yes, sir, it really was." He lowered his hands, finally, looking Muriel up and down. "You better... you better get going. I'll tell Mr. Alnazar you dropped, okay?"

"Oh... okay..." Muriel blinked a little, his shoulders slumping. "Thanks... I guess..."

He started to turn towards the closet exit, Inanna whining as she followed, when a voice across the lobby stopped him dead in his tracks.

"-Which is exactly why I'm going to be late in. Faust didn't want to go and I couldn't find her, and I'm not going into work without her." The elevator doors had opened, chiming out their soft warning, and Asra came out. He had his phone between his ear and his shoulder while Faust coiled up about his hands, strung between his fingertips like a lazy cats cradle. "Yeah, no, I know! She never just hides, and you know how big my apartment is. I'm going to need to look for her, so I'll either be late or I won't be able to go in at all."

He smiled, Faust's tongue flickering as they told their little lie, an excuse for Asra to get out of work no doubt, but why he was being called to work so late in the night was a mystery.  
"I know. I came to work this morning, though, and that should be enough. I don't need to go chasing around after vague clues that he gives me, Julian. I still have to find-" He sighed, Julian's incoherent voice ringing through the speaker. "I don't know! Maybe something or someone scared her? You know foxes hunt snakes. It's not my fault that people are suddenly bringing their familiars in left and-"

He got to the desk, having been more focused on his call and conversation than on the vacancy behind the desk.

 

"Mr. Alnazar!" the man from behind the desk said, still stood close to Muriel. "I was just about to call you. This... gentleman came to see you."

If the large shadow behind him wasn't enough of a clue as to who it was, the disdain in his voice when he referred to Muriel would have been a dead giveaway. His eyes flicked over to Muriel, widening at the sheer volume of blood and the rainwater that soaked through his clothes and hair, plastering them to his skin.

"Muriel!" Asra instantly began to move over, one of his hands settling on Muriel's biceps as he looked up at him. Faust had already slinked back to his shoulder by then. "Ah, wait-" he took the phone from his shoulder. "Julian, I'm not going to go into work today, alright? Okay. Bye."

Despite the idle protests ringing out from the phone, Asra took it and pressed the red button to hang up, tucking his phone back into his pocket.

"God, Muriel, what happened? Was there- was there someone at the shop? Come on, quick. Quick, let's get you to my apartment."

Muriel had flinched when Asra touched him, but unlike with the man at the desk, he didn't pull away.

"I-... I didn't know where else to go..." he murmured weakly. "This was a mistake..."

The man spoke up again. "He's right, Mr. Alnazar. You know we have a rule about familiars here. Paying tenants-"

"Paying tenants only? Yeah." He reached into his pocket and dug out the first few bills he could find, slamming them down on the desk. His eyes were narrowed, and unfamiliarly dark. "Muriel is with me. I'm classed as a paying tenant, and he's with me."

He pulled Muriel into the elevator after that, leaving the man from the desk stuttering and stumbling over his words, collecting the money from the desk. Asra pushed the button to close the doors and turned to Muriel, his brow creased with concern and his eyes shining with worry.  
"Oh my god, you're bleeding... what happened? I... was there trouble? There wasn't a fight, was there?" He hesitated, glancing up at the camera in the elevator. "No, it can wait. I'll wait."

He was already tugging his jacket off of his shoulders, once again sending a surge of magic through it that made it grow and expand in his hands. He wrapped it around Muriel's shoulders even if he had to go onto his tiptoes to do so. From there, he moved his hand in a smooth, swirling motion and conjured away the rainwater from Muriel's hair, first, leaving it mostly dry, then using his sleeve to wipe Muriel's damp face.  
"You're still soaked... when we get to mine, you're going to have a shower and a cup of hot chocolate, and this isn't up for debate. I got some more food for Inanna this morning, and I was about to go out to get some more tea but it can wait. You're more important. Are you hungry? I can fix you both up with something to eat, then we can talk about this."

Muriel could barely hear him -- he registered the sound of a question, but that was it. His head was still spinning. The adrenaline was leaving him, seeping away from his system and leaving something empty and hollow behind. Something without a home. Something without money-

"I'm okay," he said weakly, shaking his head. No. No, he wasn't okay. He didn't have a place to live. He didn't have money to pay his debt. He wouldn't have choice -- he was going to have to go back to Lucio. Muriel's breath hitched a little as the thoughts bombarded him, eyes going watery as he looked down at his hands. "I'm okay."

Following his gaze, Asra took Muriel's hands carefully, studying the cuts and slashes about his palm- still littered with some shards of glass. It was times like these that he was happy to have magic, thankful for the convenience of being able to move his hand and making all the glass shards disappear. He curled his hand into a fist and when he uncurled it, a roll of bandages was settled in his palm.   
"Inanna, are you hurt?" he asked, beginning to wrap the palms of Muriel's hands with the bandages, being careful and slow. "I'm going to need to wrap this tight, some of these cuts are pretty deep. It might hurt, I'm sorry."

The wolf gave a low whine, shaking her head so her ears flapped. She stood up, pacing nervously around the elevator before sitting back down at Muriel's side, prodding his leg with her snout. Muriel watched her dully, more tears gathering in his eyes at every pinch of those slashes of his hands. He wondered if she could feel his growing fear -- he could see her own in the way her tongue lolled and her breaths escaped her in low pants, her tail tucked between her legs whenever she'd get up and pace again.

The elevator slowed to a stop, a gentle ding sounding out from the speakers as the doors began to roll open -- showing an empty hall and a clear path right to Asra's room. Asra put his foot out in front of the doors so they wouldn't close, still focused on wrapping up Muriel's hands. Muriel watched him, a new series of trembles beginning to thrum through his nerves again.

"I'm sorry," he nearly whispered, his chest tight. All wrapped up in wire like before. "I-... I didn't know where else to go... I didn't have... I don't have anywhere else-" Muriel closed his eyes, his breath hitching again. His jaw muscles pulsed as he bit back a sob. "He ruined my apartment... he knows who I am-who I am what I did... he took all my money- I didn't know what to do, Asra. This was a mistake... like the... the man said. This was a mistake-"

"Hey, hey, breathe," Asra said softly, coaxing, soothing him. He finished wrapping his hands and tied them, then taking Muriel's wrist and beginning to take him back to his apartment. He set his hand against the door and it unlocked, swinging open. "Go on, settle down. Move to get comfy, okay?"

He held the door open for Inanna, too, sighing as he pushed the door closed behind the two of them. Worry was thrumming through his veins and swarming his mind.  
"Was it the guy you mentioned on the phone the other day?" Asra asked as he walked through, taking Muriel from where he'd been frozen in the hallway through to the living room again. He sat him down, gently brushing his hair from his face. "Do you want to shower before or after you tell me about it?"

Muriel nodded, but he couldn't tell which question he was answering. He brought his bandaged hand up to his face, fingers touching upon the cooled blood he accidentally smeared there back in the apartment. Before he got sick. Muriel's stomach churned at the memory, but he forced back a groan, turning to look at Asra with tear misted eyes.

"Shower," he said quietly, taking his hand down from his face. "Please- I... I need some time to think. I don't know what I'm gonna do. If I don't pay tomorrow-"

He cut himself off, pinching his eyes closed and snapping his mouth shut. Muriel was too emotional — he needed to cool down. Everything was bubbling over, it wouldn't be long until a few of his secrets left with everything else. He lifted his hands back to his head, turning away. His fingers trembled as he rubbed at his temples.

"Shower," he repeated. "Now. Please."

Asra, though the worry was still overwhelming him and he wanted to sit here and hold Muriel as he cried and told him everything, nodded.  
"Of course. Come on," he said, bringing Muriel back to his feet carefully and taking ahold of his forearm. He began to pull him back to his feet, sighing softly. "I'll show you how the shower works, but you can use anything that's available. No sweat, alright? You have to look after yourself as much as you can. Wash with whatever you want, take as long as you need. I'll have some snacks and drinks ready for when you get back and you can tell me as much as you want to tell me."

Muriel gave another nod, eyes trailing along all the spots of blood smeared and trailed up his arms from the drive. Flashes and memories of scrubbing away crusted blood off of his skin until his hands were raw all bombarded him in an instant. Late nights at the Palace, locked in one of Lucio's private bathrooms — washing his arms off in the sink and watching the blood of four or five other people swirl about the drain. Muriel stopped short, ducking his head and squeezing his eyes shut so tight colors danced behind his eyelids. He heard Asra distantly ask him if he was alright, and Muriel nodded quickly, feeling dizzy every time he moved his head.

"I'm okay," he said shakily, starting forwards again, Asra still holding his arm. "Bad... bad memories..."

Bad secrets. Muriel shut his mouth and let Asra guide him into the bathroom.

He didn't realize he was being taken towards the master bathroom until he lifted his head and found himself in Asra's room. At least, he could only guess it was Asra's with the large bed and the snake enclosure in the corner. Muriel tried to protest, not wanting to make a mess of Asra's personal bathroom, but Asra wouldn't let him — and before he knew it, he was standing before Asra's shower, spacing out as Asra taught him how to use it. Luckily, Asra left it on for him before he left, his hand resting delicately upon Muriel's bicep as he assured again and again that Muriel could use whatever he wanted, take as long as he needed. Muriel tried to listen, but his focus was on Asra's hand.

Somehow, through the numbness of shock, Muriel could still feel the warm buzz of Asra's touch.

He could still feel it after Asra left. After he had laid out a towel and some clothes he grew with magic, Asra left with a gentle goodbye and he shut the door behind him. It was then Muriel realized Inanna hadn't followed because it was then he realized he was all alone -- stood awkwardly in the middle of Asra's grand bathroom. He looked around a little, listening to the hiss of the shower, feeling the air get warmer as the steam lifted from the hot spray of water. He should have told Asra he liked cold showers. That, or he should have paid more attention when Asra showed him what to do.

As he dragged his half-empty gaze around the room, he caught sight of the mirror -- his stare catching before he could stop himself. Muriel's eyes rounded at his reflection. A pale, sickly looking face stared back at him, cheeks puffy and red and streaked with drying tears, his chin and his mouth smeared with a guarish crimson from when he touched his face earlier. No wonder the man at the desk had been so scared. Why he'd been speaking to Muriel like he was a madman.

Like he was a freak.

Muriel closed his eyes and turned away from the reflection, his hands stinging with pain as he brought them down to the hem of his shirt to peel it up and over his head. He needed to shower -- Muriel told himself that, trying to keep the thought a strong constant amongst all the others as he undressed. He needed to shower soon, so he stopped wasting Asra's water. So the bathroom would stop getting so humid, so breathless, as the steam began to rise up and spread across the ceiling. So he could wash all of that blood off of him as soon as he could.

He didn't know how to keep the bandages from getting wet when he stepped into the shower, so he didn't try. Muriel just hoped Asra wouldn't get mad at him for wasting them, watching as a pinkish color began to spot and seep through the white gauze. The warm water drummed against his back -- his taut shoulders and his aching back muscles. The shower was tall and wide. Big enough to ensure he didn't have to duck his head or hurt his neck to get beneath the shower head, the warm water washing away the chill of rain as the heat sank deep down into his bones. He didn't watch the blood swirl down the drain, instead focusing on the array of soaps and shampoos.

The shower was a glass one, shaped in a sort of rectangular prism with a flat, smooth tiled floor instead of a tub. Muriel supposed that had been because there was a jacuzzi tub tucked into the other corner of Asra's master bathroom -- there was no need for two. There were two corner shelves made from clear plastic in the shower, one stocked full of expensive shampoos and conditioners, the other with body wash and lotions and soaps. Even if it was ridiculous, Muriel found them helpful to focus on as he searched for something he would want to use. After awhile of aimlessly staring, Muriel picked whatever had the word berry on the label and actually started to shower.

The blood washed off easily. It never had time to settle or crust, especially with the rain. All that was left to do after washing his hair was to try and shake the chill from his system -- but he didn't think a mere shower would do the trick. So, after a while of trying to figure out how to work it, Muriel shut off the shower, pushing the door open and releasing a heavy gust of steam into Asra's bathroom.

Luckily the glass of the mirror had fogged -- Muriel didn't have to look at himself or the scars again as he dried himself off. Asra had gotten him a pair of sweatpants and a loose tee-shirt, both magically stretched to fit him alright. He pulled them on, smelling Asra on them both as he did: the sweet scents, the herbal scents, the calming ones too. He found his socks over by his boots, somehow dry and safe from the rain, and he tugged them on, too.

He was slow to leave Asra's bathroom, his hand hesitating as it rested upon the doorknob. Leaving the bathroom meant facing what had just happened. It meant talking to Asra -- explaining it. Leaving the safe place of steam and quiet and seclusion meant Muriel was going to have to start thinking. Really thinking -- thinking about what to do, how to do it, what his options were. With the shock of the situation finally settling, senses of numb fear and dark despair swiftly filling in its place, Muriel was going to have to come up with a solution.

If there was one, anyways.

What else was he supposed to do? His money was gone. His apartment was in ruins -- and even if it wasn't, would he ever really feel safe there again? Would his money ever be safe there again? Muriel closed his eyes and tried not to think about it -- not yet. He couldn't... he...

He needed to talk to Asra first. Which meant he needed to leave the bathroom.

With the peacefulness of seclusion finally twisted, Muriel turned the knob to Asra's bathroom, and slowly crept out of it. His hands throbbed beneath their damp dressings, the sting of fleshwounds biting at his nerves. He wondered weakly as he started out of Asra's bedroom and into the hall if it would scar. He didn't really get a good look at the cuts, how deep they were and how bad. But judging by the fact they hadn't stopped bleeding the whole drive there...

Muriel, again, told himself not to think about it. He started out into the living room area, spotting the fluff of white hair on the couch beside a magically dry Inanna.

"Asra...?" Muriel's voice was quiet and croaky when he spoke. He cleared his throat a little, lifting his hands to wrap himself in a sort of hug. "I... I showered, I guess."

"Oh! That's great. You took a while, I was wondering if I'd confused you somehow," Asra said warmly, gesturing for Muriel to sit in the seat beside him. There were two cups of hot chocolate on the table, Asra's fingers glowing ever so slightly as he regulated their temperature, keeping them warm while he waited for Muriel to come out. Now content that they wouldn't suddenly and rapidly cool down before Muriel could drink, he let the magic fade.

He watched as Muriel came bumbling over to him and settled awkwardly beside him on the plush couch.   
"First, I just want to tell you that no matter what you tell me, I will do my best to help. You don't have to tell me anything that you don't want to. You could give me the briefest list of things you need and I'd supply them without question. Whatever's happened, if you don't want to get into it you don't have to. That being said, of course, I would appreciate knowing if it's something that's putting you at risk. If it's something that makes you come to find me in the middle of the night, bleeding and soaking wet."

He moved a little closer to Muriel, liking the soft scent of berries that followed him. He looked a little better now. Not phenomenally so, the shower wasn't supposed to be some magical cure for all his ailments, but he looked better. Hopefully something to eat and some hot chocolate would make him feel better. That and a shoulder to cry on if need be, a listening ear, and a bed to sleep in. Asra had already decided that Muriel wasn't going to be spending another night on the couch.

Asra was already sure that Muriel was going to sleep in his bed tonight, just to rest somewhere comfortable, somewhere that would have room for him and Inanna. Asra would sleep on the couch if need be.  
"You can take your time to tell me," he said after a few moments, taking the hot chocolate from the table and passing it over to Muriel. "I don't mind."

Muriel held the hot chocolate in his hands, the warmth seeping through his bandages and into his wounds. He didn't take a sip yet -- whether his body still felt too numb to move, or his stomach just felt too sick for anything. His eyes just trained themselves upon the steaming surface, blank and glassy like before as they watched the chocolate swirl.

"My apartment -- it was... it was just robbed. While I was at the shop," Muriel muttered, closing his eyes. "That's it. I... I overreacted. It just scared me."

Lying was the best option, really. Muriel didn't want to drag Asra into anything. He didn't want Asra thinking it was his fault or his responsibility because of that damn note. Muriel certainly didn't want to mention anything about the payments or Lucio or... or his nasty alter ego. There was too much baggage packed tight into Muriel's frame -- which was quite a feat considering his size. One prod and it would escape in a flurry of thoughtless emotion and irrationality. That night had been solid proof of such a claim. Speeding through the streets of Vesuvia, barging into a refined hotel with bloody hands and a soaking wet, almost-registered familiar, asking for Asra's help and dragging the one thing that was finally making him feel almost normal into his festering mess of a life.

Now that he was thinking properly again, a steady dose of self loathing nipped at his system right along with everything else.

Inanna gave a low whine, laying her head upon Muriel's leg. He looked down at her, knowing what she wanted him to do from just the sad look of her yellow-green eyes. The memory of the bathroom from before -- of her steady voice in her head, telling him they needed help -- it came to him so vividly Muriel almost believed it was her doing it.

"The... the only reason I'm so scared is-" Muriel cut himself off, snapping his eyes shut again and turning his head. It was as if his body was fighting against him as he tried to speak. "It's... I-... I have these payments and one of them is due tomorrow and he-... whoever robbed my apartment, I mean. They took all of my money. I don't know what I'm going to do... if I don't pay I..."

I'm Lucio's again.

"I get in trouble."

Inanna whined, but she seemed proud enough, offering a consoling lick to his forearm. Muriel kept his eyes closed, dreading the follow-up questions from Asra, who had been listening so quietly beside him. Listening to all of those lies and the occasional vague, stretched truth.

"How much do you need?"

It was likely the most pleasant follow up question that could be given. He was just starting with the softball questions, going for easy things and simple questions. Asra had already promised that he would help, and he had more than enough money even without Lucio paying him. His eyes flicked to Inanna and he reached over to pet her, as if that was some way that he could offer comfort to her, too. He'd already fed her and made sure she knew he'd do anything he could to help.

 

He took his wallet from the coffee table, looking over at Muriel.  
"If you don't mind my asking, why do you owe someone money? There aren't many places, or people, in the city that lend out money that would charge weekly." Except a few people that Asra was unwillingly acquainted with, but listening to that meant considering the possibility that Muriel somehow knew his boss, and that was a connection he definitely didn't want to make.

The signs were all there, though. The regular payments- on Tuesdays, no less, the days that Lucio often bragged about how much money he made, the days that he often bought more wine or new ornaments to appease his insatiable materialistic desires. And the mention of getting in trouble provided he didn't pay...

 

Asra knew better than anyone what happened to debtors who couldn't pay. The blood on his hands and the amount of times he'd left work with busted knuckles, those screams having been so loud they echoed in his mind like tinnitus.

It was all adding up to a grim conclusion. He didn't want Muriel and Lucio to be associated in any way. If he didn't ask, if he didn't press for names, he wouldn't get any. He'd leave it at that. He'd find out why and he'd find out how much was needed and he'd draw the line there. Anything to prevent Muriel from saying that name or saying anything else that could further connect him to Lucio.

Muriel's skin went cold. He looked up fast, eyes round. "No-" his voice was more desperate than he intended it to be, "-no, Asra please. He... he doesn't deserve your money- I don't deserve it. Please — I won't take it."

He looked down to the floor, realizing what it seemed like he'd been doing. Muriel's jaw muscles pulsed, his teeth gritting behind his frowning lips. He didn't drive all that way in such a mindless frenzy for money. He didn't want Asra's money. To be honest, Muriel didn't know what he wanted from Asra — but it certainly wasn't money to pay off his debt.

"I-... it's just this... this loan shark I guess." Muriel struggled to get his words out. "He... I was living on the street and- and he made his deal sound so nice. I didn't know... I didn't have a choice- I was just hungry and tired of-..." Muriel gave a low sort of sigh, setting down his untouched mug of hot chocolate and lifting his hands to his face. He'd never tried to explain that twisted situation to anyone out loud. He'd never told anyone any of that. Why was Asra any different? "He tricked me. Now I'm just trying to pay off the debt so I don't... so I don't get in trouble."

Ah. There was no doubt about it. Sugarcoating everything, manipulating, tricking people; it had to be Lucio. He didn't know anyone else who could make a lifetime of debt sound like paradise. That was why he was still reigning over Vesuvia. Every time someone paid off their debt or found some way to escape his clutches, there would be a hundred other desperate people for Lucio to ensnare. It made Asra sick to think about. Muriel was just one of many people being used and struggling to pay.

And even as he struggled to avoid thinking about it, he couldn't help but pile blame on himself. He was contributing, even if he wasn't encouraging Lucio's ways. He was a cog in the machine, someone supporting the threat. He was a part of the reason Muriel's life was miserable. He would do anything to make it better.

"Muriel, you... you can't just spend your life like this. Struggling to get from payment to payment to avoid trouble. I can offer you all the money you need, but this... I don't want to see you struggle like this again." He took one of Muriel's hands, looking into his eyes. "You know that I can help. I have more than enough, and if it helps you then I'll give whatever you need. You shouldn't feel guilty- you deserve to live without worrying so much about money."

He paused, sighing as he held a little tighter to Muriel's hand. His other hand settled on top of Muriel's hand and he squeezed gently, trying to provide some reassurance.

"I think I know who you're talking about, anyway." As much as he hated to confirm it, he knew it would soothe his anxious mind just to get a clear answer. "Blond hair, right? Weird eyes, weirder makeup? He's pretty well-known around here-"

"Stop."

Muriel's shaky whisper stopped Asra clean in his tracks. He opened his eyes up, finding that they had begun to well up again as he focused his gaze upon Asra's hand. So clean and so innocent against the gruff, bloodied bandages wrapped around Muriel's palm and knuckles. So small in such obvious comparison of his own — so small but so comforting. He focused on it, using it as a tether of sorts as he parted his lips to speak again, just feeling the buzz of their contact.

"I'm not telling you who he is or what he looks like. I-... I won't even let you guess," Muriel said, drawing up his shoulders. "He's bad news Asra. He... he hurts people- I don't care what you think you can do or what you think you can pay. I'm telling you to stay away from him. Please..." He flicked his desperate eyes up to Asra, brow pitching as he locked their gazes. "For me. Don't get involved."

There were plenty of reasons Muriel wanted Asra to stay as far away from Lucio and his twisted mafia as he could. Of course, Asra's safety and innocence had been at the very top of the list... but Muriel's past involvement loomed like a beastly shadow just below that, the very thought scraping chills down his already disturbed system. Muriel couldn't let Asra find out who he was. What he had done — who he hurt for his own benefit. There wasn't a day that went by that Muriel regretted not choosing the option of death by mafia every day, but Asra wouldn't know that.

How would he react to Muriel being a killer? Would he feel betrayed? Disgusted? Muriel didn't want to think about it — he didn't want to think about any of that. Everything he had stuffed down in his dark box of memories, tucked somewhere deep in his subconscious. The man who destroyed his apartment had dug it up and kicked it open though, scattering its contents so far and so wide Muriel couldn't hope to gather them all together again.

"I'm sorry," Muriel said, his voice nearing the same panicked tremor he had when he first noticed the sorry state of his mattress. "I shouldn't have brought you into this. I shouldn't have come here- this was a mistake. The guy at the desk... he was right. I should go."

"No, no, stay," Asra said quickly, keeping his eyes on Muriel. "I'll drop it. It isn't important, okay? Stay here. It can't be safe to go back home if it was robbed. Just stay. Please." He moved one of his hands to cup Muriel's cheek, gently brushing his thumb along his cheek, ready to wipe away tears as they came if Muriel's resolve crumbled any further. He could feel the soft bump of his skin where it became uneven scarred flesh but he didn't mind. He just hoped Muriel wouldn't mind that he was touching it.

He glanced to the table.  
"And if you don't want to stay for long, at least finish your drink. It should help soothe your nerves. Julian used to come to me a thousand times a night saying he was anxious or after a nightmare and one of these would always settle him down. He told me it was like magic. Drink, please. We can relax; I'll put something nice on the tv for us to watch together. Does that sound alright?" Oh, how he hoped Muriel would say yes. He may have mixed a little something magical into the drink, but it was only enough to calm Muriel down.

He was going to have to talk to Lucio when he next went into work, but that could wait. His focus, for now, would be on Muriel.

Muriel looked at him a moment, hesitance clear in his worried eyes and furrowed brow. He could feel Asra's hand upon his face, feel the calming taste of his magic wash through his skin and sizzle into his nerves, feel the way Asra's thumb ever so gently graced up the trail of his scar. As much as his worried system wanted to pull away... all Muriel could do was relax. All he could do was lean into it -- not thinking as he tilted his head into Asra's touch, his eyes settling closed as his shoulders slumped and his posture slackened.

It took him a moment or so to speak, as if he meant to savor the moment of comfort for just a little longer.

"Fine..." he managed to mumble. "I'll finish the drink. And then I'll go."

Reluctantly, Muriel finally turned away from Asra and leaned forward to pick up his drink. It was still warm when he took his first sip, despite sitting untouched that whole time after he had gotten out of the shower. Muriel dully figured it'd been some sort of magic as the warm, comforting taste of chocolate met his tongue. A buzz of a feeling passed through him, the knot in his lungs -- the one composed of barbed wire, having been coiling tighter and tighter since he found his apartment in ruin -- unwinding a bit as the warmth of the hot chocolate hit his chest. He forgot about his sick stomach all of a sudden, and took another sip.

About five sips in and Muriel was getting sleepy. Before, of course, he'd been tired -- but that was the sort of tired where you know you're tired and need sleep, but you could never see yourself laying down and actually doing it. A haggard sort of feeling that made your eyes hurt and your muscles ache and your brain feel all but sputtered out. Then, however, Muriel was starting to feel the kind of sleepy where one's head begins to bob. His eyelids sank, his back pressed up against the plush of Asra's backrest and the tension from his shoulders finally subsided. All the while Asra sat next to him, the living room settled into a comfortable silence as Muriel drank his hot chocolate, taking the sleepy thoughtlessness and using it to block out the worry of his own impending doom.

"I... I don't think I've said thank you..." Muriel's voice was quiet and tired. He was almost through with his cup. "You do all this stuff for me... you shouldn't but you do. Thank you... I guess..."

Asra was already seeing the magic settle in. He hadn't thought that he'd used that much, assuming that it had been enough for someone of Muriel's size to get halfway in before getting so tired, but he hadn't taken into account how low Muriel's tolerance was for magic. Even Julian had built up a little more of a resistance to the stuff.

"It's nothing," Asra said softly, looking up at Muriel. He hadn't seen him so relaxed before, without stress or tension in his shoulders, without his brows furrowed and without his lips tugged into a frown. He liked it, though. Seeing Muriel so calm was nice. Seeing him able to relax, even seeing him struggling to keep his eyes open as sleepiness began to settle in. "You're my friend, Muriel. I'd do anything to keep you safe and happy, trust me."

He glanced to the windows, flicking out his hand again and watching as the curtains began to tug themselves closed. It was late anyway.  
"You look so tired, Muriel. Are you sure you'll be able to drive home like this?"

Muriel looked at him for a moment before flicking his gaze back down to the floor. "Yeah- sure..." he sighed, shrugging his shoulders. He took one last sip of his hot chocolate, and set it down upon his costa. "I... I always look tired, Asra." Muriel rubbed his eyes with the palm of his hand. "It's fine, I don't need to-"

He was cut off by a crack of thunder from outside. All four of them -- Muriel and Asra and then the two familiars -- jumped. Muriel turned around to look at the window, having forgotten about the rain and the incoming storms entirely. It came in waves, sheets. Hammering down against the windows with an ambient drum of sound. Inanna gave a low whine, ears sinking down upon her head. Muriel gave a soft sigh, turning back around in his seat.

"Forgot the radio said thunderstorms again..." he said, brow furrowing nervously as he brought his hands up to his arms. "I-... I guess I shouldn't drive home." Muriel looked up at Asra. "But I don't want to take up your couch again- I... I'm sorry. I'm asking too much now-"

"My couch?" Asra frowned. "No, you won't be taking up my couch. It's not a problem, Muriel. You think I'd let you sleep here again without getting you into a proper bed?"

He moved one hand to brush Muriel's hair from his face again, absently beginning to toy with it, running his fingers through Muriel's hair. It was softer now than before, the shower must have done him a world of good. He glanced at Muriel's mostly-untouched cup and sighed a little.

"You don't have to finish that if you don't want to. We can head straight to bed." He was already getting up, taking his cup of hot chocolate and sipping it. He'd gotten so used to Faust curling up around his mugs that he didn't even realise she was there until he felt her coiling up around his arm again.

Muriel started to argue about using one of Asra's beds, but he stopped himself when his mind caught onto one specific word of Asra's.

"'We'?" he asked, looking up at Asra. He pushed himself up a little -- off of the couch -- but his head began to whirl, heavy like lead upon his neck, so he settled back down again. Muriel watched Asra head off into the kitchen to set the cups in the sink. "What do you-? I-... Nevermind. Asra, I'm fine on the couch. Really-... I've already taken too much."

Another tremor from the dark sky outside. Another whine from Inanna beside him. She ducked her head, nervous pants escaping her open mouth, her tongue lolling with each fast breath. Muriel settled a bandaged hand on her back, sighing a little as he looked up to Asra, who was just starting back into the living room again.

"What... what room am I even going to stay in?" Muriel asked in a defeated sigh. "Do you even have a bed that'll... that'll fit me?"

"If you don't mind," Asra said as he walked around the couch, taking Muriel's hands and pulling him to his feet, admittedly having to use a little magic to give himself the strength to pull Muriel up. "I was thinking you could stay in my room. The bed is big enough for you and Inanna to have your own space, and I've got air conditioning, a dimmer light, anything that you'd need to make sure that the room is as comfortable for you as possible."

He glanced at Inanna, offering her a smile.   
"Come on, I could put some music on to distract you from the sound of thunder, if you want?" he was clearly making an effort to help them both relax and feel at home, wanting to ensure that Muriel felt comfortable and that he wouldn't need to worry about Inanna. "I've got a little more work to do before I sleep anyway, so you can settle down without worrying about me. And, again, this place is totally safe. Not only because of the magical seal on the door, but because of the security downstairs and because it's the top floor. You can be at ease here."

Muriel's tired eyes went wide at the idea. He parted his lips and began to shake his head, but Inanna seemed to have other plans. She stood up from where she had been so restlessly trembling, and trotted along the hall, her tail tucked between her legs the whole way to Asra's room. Muriel forgot to close the door properly -- she nudged her way in with her nose and, without another moment to lose, disappeared into Asra's room. Muriel stood up, finally, one hand on the backrest of the couch to steady himself. Guilty, he turned around to tell Asra he'd been sorry, but he stopped himself.

Asra had been standing nearly right behind him, looking up with a soft, pleading sort of stare. Muriel looked down into Asra's eyes, his own round and softening. There was a moment or so of silence, their gazes connected -- locked together with Asra's coaxing conviction and Muriel's crumbling wall of guilt. With a low sigh, Muriel broke the stare, but his slightly grumbled, slightly murmured voice came next, weary with defeat.

"Fine. I... I don't like it but fine." He brought his hands up to his arms again, hugging himself. He swayed a little on his feet without the balance, his head heavy. Muriel just closed his eyes and ignored it. "Where are you... where would you sleep, Asra?"

"I've got plenty of other rooms," Asra said with a smile. "But mine is the only one with a bed big enough for both of you. I'll find somewhere to sleep, so don't worry about me." He hooked his arm around Muriel's waist, supporting him, still sending little surges of his energy through his arm to give himself the strength to carry Muriel, to support his weight as he brought him toward the bedroom.

Muriel tried to murmur that he could walk on his own, but the contact of Asra's touch and magic all around his waist was too nice to push away. His tired system wouldn't allow the embarrassment or the sheepishness to ruin the chaste little touches, so he let the slight whine fade away, his head hanging a bit on his neck as he let Asra guide him forwards.

Asra pushed open the bedroom door fully, seeing a lump under the blanket where Inanna was, her tail giving her away where it wasn't covered by the blanket.

"Do you want something else to sleep in or is that okay?" Asra asked Muriel as he took him toward the bed, pulling away from him when he was close enough to it to be sure that Muriel wasn't going to fall. He was cute when he was tired out like this, though, and Asra's cheeks were a little red when he moved back. He dismissed the buzzing of his skin where he'd held Muriel on the magic he'd been using.

Tiredly, Muriel shrugged, sinking down onto the corner of the bed. He reached his hand down to where Asra's had been, when his arm was wrapped around his waist, missing the feeling of it. He could almost imagine it still there if he closed his eyes... but Muriel was afraid if he did that he'd fall asleep standing up. So instead he nodded his head, heavy lidded gaze on Asra.

"This is fine," he said. Better than fine. The clothes were soft. They smelled like Asra, too. They were... they were better than fine, for certain. "Thanks though..."

 

"Make yourself comfortable," Asra said again. "I'm going to be out for a while, so if you want anything you should ask me now. You know your way around, though, so feel free to use anything you want. I won't mind at all."

 

He pulled back, extending his arm to the snake enclosure and watching Faust slither along his arm, curling around the log for a few moments- before Asra watched as she slithered along the counter and to the bed. She settled on Muriel's arm, wrapped around his bicep. Asra didn't bother to argue with her again.  
"Is it alright if she stays there?" he asked instead, watching her red eyes shining at him in the dim light of the room. "She says that you're helping her with the storm."

Muriel felt a nervous sort of feeling bite at his chest at the idea of being all alone in Asra's big apartment, but then he felt the squeeze of Faust on his arm and the shiver of Inanna beside him and realized he wasn't all that alone in the first place. Still, a sliver of worry tried to coil itself around the barbed wire, but that had been dampened by the hot chocolate in the first place. Muriel could recognize the worry but... he was just too tired to care.

"She's okay," Muriel said quietly, lifting a tired, bandaged hand to stroke Faust's nose with his thumb. "How... how long will you be out?"

"A couple of hours," Asra said, offering a little smile. "I'll be back as soon as I can be, okay? I'll make sure that I do this as quickly as possible." He walked over to the bed, brushing Muriel's hair from his face. "Don't worry about me. I know how to look after myself, and I'll seal the door twice as strong as usual to make sure that nothing happens while I'm out. Believe me, you're safe. There's nothing for you to worry about."

He moved back after a moment, smiling at Muriel as he got to the door. "Sleep well, Muriel."

"Thanks, Asra..."

Muriel watched the door close, the light from the hall disappearing behind it and submerging Muriel in the dim light of Asra's room. He sat blankly for a moment or so, everything processing in his tired brain. The fact he was in Asra's room all alone, soon to be in his apartment all alone, the slight tickle of his arm when Faust began to slither up it, making her way up to his shoulders to drape around the back of his neck again.

Muriel turned his head, craning his neck to try and look at her. His brow furrowed a bit.

"How do you sleep with a snake...?" he asked aloud, his gruff, tired voice heavy and alone in Asra's room.

She looked at him, red eyes glinting in the dull light. Faust moved forwards and booped his cheek with her nose again before slithering back down his body on the opposite arm she started with. She made her way down to his hand, and repeated the strange booping-kiss on Muriel's bandaged palm -- light and delicate as her tongue flicked over the dressed wounds. As though she meant to kiss it better.

In spite of everything that had happened to him, Muriel managed the weakest smile at the gesture.

It wasn't long before he shifted, turning around in the bed and lifting Asra's covers. The instant he laid down, his entire body relaxed, the plush comfort of Asra's mattress like nothing he'd ever felt before. Muriel eased his head down onto an impossibly soft pillow, able to stretch his legs out to their full length without his feet hanging over the edge or poking out of the blanket. Muriel gave a low sigh of content, barely hearing the distant boom of thunder as he sank deeper into his comfort.

The smell of Asra was everywhere. His presence and his feeling and his aura -- why, it was almost like he was right there with Muriel in those sheets. Like Muriel could reach out and Asra would be there. There to touch his cheek again and there to play with his hair...

With Inanna curled up by his side, and Faust loosely wrapped around his arm, Muriel managed to fall asleep, the thoughts of Asra on his mind easing him to rest rather than the worries of the night.

And, as promised, Asra returned a little under two hours later. His 'work' was done, though it was nothing related to his actual work. He returned to his room, careful and quiet as he tried to avoid disturbing Muriel. He removed his shirt and threw it to the hamper in the corner of the room, then moved over to the bed.

Muriel had somehow managed to move into the corner, pressed by the wall as if he was used to trying to take up as little space as possible, even in sleep. He approached the bed and moved to lie beside him, not wanting to go through the hassle of getting out new bedding for a spare room. He did try to keep space between himself and Muriel anyway, so as Faust curled up about his bicep instead, Asra was able to settle down.

He sent one glance to the figure beside him, offering a little smile just from seeing Muriel there. Even in the dim white light, he could see Muriel's relaxed face. He could see the high cheekbones, the little shine of that scar, and the outline of his muscles. He never got to admire Muriel when they were hanging out, often worried that if he were to look for too long it would unsettle Muriel or he'd shy away.

Once more, when a few strands of Muriel's hair fell into his face Asra brushed them away with cautious, delicate fingertips, sighing as he settled back down. His eyelids felt heavy, his body so suddenly lethargic as he gave into his urge to sleep. Even if it did feel strange to have another body lying beside his again.


	10. Help

Muriel didn't know if he had any sort of dreams or not -- there was no pictures nor memories hanging over in his head when he awoke... but there were certainly feelings. Warm feelings. Nice ones. The kind that blooms through one's chest nice and slowly -- like it was meant to be savored. Muriel's dream-warmth was like the comforting buzz of magic... but injected into his bloodstream, sent to circulate around his whole system. At the same time, it danced across his skin and wrapped him up. It was a comforting pressure against his body, but at the same time it was a gentle yet intimate grace of a touch.

Whatever the feeling was, it had been too good to be real. Muriel figured it was a dream -- at least his tired system did as his senses slowly unfurled themselves from that nice, long slumber. His brain felt sluggish once he finally managed to wake up, his eyes still closed but delicately beneath a bright ray of sunlight that had risen up and across his face. He turned his head a little, brows furrowing as he felt soft fabric against his face. Muriel gave a low grumble to himself, figuring it was nothing as he began to turn around on his side -- away from the sunlight. However, he stopped, his eyes snapping open when a powerful rush of confusion flushed down through his previously calm system.

The first bit of confusion came from the lack of creaks in the mattress when Muriel shifted. The next came when he didn't feel any low ache or crick in his neck and back. The next, however, had come from something very real, very warm, and very solid pressed up against his side, keeping him from turning all the way. It was the same something he could suddenly feel tangled up with his legs and wrapped around his waist. Something that radiated that warmth and comfort from before -- the one he thought had been a dream.

Muriel didn't know what he expected that presence to be, but he felt his entire body seized at the sight of Asra pressed up to his side -- head on his chest, one arm wrapped around Muriel's torso, legs pulled up and tangled with his own.

"Asra?" Muriel said before he could stop himself, his voice louder than he expected it to be. He jumped a little at his own volume, wincing when he watched Asra's brow furrow as he began to stir. Inanna, who'd been tucked beneath the covers by the foot of the bed, popped her head out from the blanket, turning around to see what had been the matter.

It was then everything came rushing back to him. The robbery, the note, the blood and the lobby, the shower, the drink, and then...

He was in Asra's bed.

He was in Asra's bed.

"Oh my God," Muriel said, once again out loud.

It took Asra a few more moments from then to stir. He was first disturbed by the movement, his brows furrowing as he readjusted and got comfy again after a moment, though his attempt at relaxing again was interrupted when Muriel's voice came to him- foggy and distant, so he couldn't understand what he said or who said it. When Muriel had pulled back, though, the sun was uninterrupted as it streamed through the windows, shining onto his face and into his closed eyes.

He grimaced, pulling back, moving his heavy hands to cover his eyes. A low groan slid past his lips at the unusual heaviness of his body, his lethargy. He hadn't been asleep for long. He was guessing it was only around eight or nine in the morning, and he hadn't slept until at least half past four.   
"Mm..." he moved a little closer to Muriel, until the sun wasn't shining in one of his eyes, and managed to peek up at his company. "Morning."

 

His throat was a little dry, so his voice came out hoarse, and his eyelids were still heavy with sleepiness. He was a few seconds away from rolling over and passing out, but he had to admit that seeing Muriel made this early wakeup a little more pleasant.

His room was hot- he'd almost forgotten how warm it could get if he left open the windows or forgot to turn on the fan, and he must have been too exhausted to do so the night before. At least he'd taken off his shirt before going to bed- better that than being fully dressed. He couldn't imagine that Muriel was too comfortable in this heat, but he supposed living at South End had given him a tolerance to it.

"I hope you don't mind that I slept in here too," Asra murmured. "I got back and I was too tired to fix up another bed. This was just-" he yawned, groaning a little more. "Just easier..."

Muriel nodded his head, maybe a bit too fast. "This is fine," he said, his mouth dry when he spoke. Muriel swallowed hard, shifting a little. Electricity raced across his skin at the touch of Asra's very bare arm draped across his stomach. "Just... uh... unexpected..."

A very clear dilemma presented itself in Muriel's system. Part of him was nearly reeling in discomfort -- he was in someone's arms. He was tangled up with another person in a bed that wasn't his own, a world of new experiences. A world of new territories Muriel never really saw himself venturing. Every one of Muriel's nerves were on fire at the contact. At the touch he was so severely unused to. However... at the same time... he didn't really want it to go away. He didn't want Asra to go away.

It was like having a pet curled up in your lap. Even if you're uncomfortable, it's not like you can move. It was even frowned upon to move. Muriel felt the same about Asra attached to his side in such a way. He couldn't move. He didn't want to lose Asra's warmth. He didn't want to make Asra move either. But Muriel couldn't stop his uncomfortable squirming, his face red, his eyes averted far away from Asra's bare chest and sleepy... cute, sleepy eyes.

A little smile tugged onto Asra's lips at the assurance that this was okay. He yawned, covering his mouth with one hand and groaning a little. He moved closer to Muriel, absently snuggling up to him- both to be shielded from the blinding sun and to seek that comforting presence. He hadn't slept beside someone in so long- and sleeping beside Muriel just seemed to feel right. He felt safe with Muriel, anway. Protected, in some way, even if he knew that Muriel was too soft to physically protect him.

Maybe he was just warding off bad dreams. Keeping any more nightmares at bay just by lying there beside him, just by providing some subtle sense of safety.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked, though his eyes had fluttered shut again as he relaxed against Muriel's chest, close to falling asleep again right there. It didn't even seem to register that Muriel was still Muriel. That this was still the man who could barely hold eye contact when Asra complimented him. That this was still the shy mechanic from South End who couldn't hold his alcohol and had the sweetest laugh and the cutest blush. In his sleepy haze, he was happy to just press close without realising how this must have been affecting Muriel.

He didn't even realise the tightness of his chest at being this close to Muriel, the way his heart beat a little quicker. He'd just dismissed the warmth of his body as a consequence of the heat of his bedroom in the morning. He just didn't seem to draw the connection that these were symptoms of being close to Muriel.

Muriel's breath caught in his chest when Asra pressed closer. When he drew his legs up and curled his arm a little tighter around Muriel's torso. Muriel suppressed a shiver when Asra pressed his head into Muriel's chest -- he could feel his heart tighten at the slight sigh Asra breathed into his shirt. The only thing he could do was keep his eyes turned to the side, his skin hot like fire as he tried to keep his mind off of anything but the closeness of Asra beside him.

"I slept fine, I guess," Muriel said, swallowing so hard his throat clicked. He wondered if Asra could feel his heart hammer in his chest from where he rested his head. "I was tired last night... everything's kind of, uh... fuzzy. Which is okay. I don't want to think about..."

He trailed off. There was a long lull of silence. More memories from the night before bled into his system through the gauze of sleep.

"I told you about my loan shark," he said quietly, blinking his eyes. Finally, he flicked his gaze back to Asra, brow furrowed. "Why? I've never told... I've never told anyone about that."

"You were stressed," Asra murmured, his eyes opening again and fixing on Muriel, shining with fondness yet still half-lidded with tiredness. He moved one of his hands from under his head to, yet again, begin brushing hair from Muriel's face. It was something he found himself doing often- he liked being able to see Muriel's face properly, without his hair obscuring the view. "Sometimes the best thing to do is say what's bothering you. Get it off of your chest. Even if you might regret it later, or if you wish you'd thought about it more, or said it at a better time... doesn't it feel at least a little better knowing that you've told someone?"

Asra looked up at Muriel, beginning to run his fingers through his hair. It was softer now, fluffy almost. One glance at the look in Muriel's eyes told him that he wasn't going to get an answer- not a pleasant one, anyway- so he changed the subject quickly. He didn't want to give Muriel enough time to let any anxieties or dark thoughts manifest. So, as his fingers were running through Muriel's freshly-washed hair, he said the first thing that came to his mind.  
"How many products did you use?" he asked, a little smile quirking onto his lips. "I told you that you could use anything, not that you should use everything."

He was only joking, and a soft giggling sort of laugh escaped his lips after a moment as if to reassure Muriel that he didn't mean anything by it.

Muriel stared at him in a confused sort of way, his brow furrowing. He felt himself lean up into Asra's touches. He felt some of his tension seep from his system at how nice Asra's fingers felt pushing through his hair. Muriel ignored the feelings though, his eyes flicking to the side.

"I just... I just used anything I liked the smell of," he mumbled, a little embarrassed. "All I usually use are dollar store products. I didn't know what to... I don't know. I also wasn't thinking straight." He shrugged his shoulders a little bit. "Sorry."

"Hey, hey, I didn't mean to embarrass you," Asra said softly, smiling. "It's fine. It's nice to know that you liked the products I had. Your hair is really soft now, too. It's nice."

Finally, though, Asra managed to pry himself away from Muriel. Something about the overwhelming warmth of the bedroom or just his need to get up and stretch a little was enough to convince him, and he rolled onto his back, pulling away from Muriel.

"Mm..." he stretched his arms above his head, arching his back a little. "I've got to splash my face with some cold water and get some tea to wake myself up before I can get breakfast. Do you want anything? Something to drink? I've got a spare toothbrush in the bathroom for you, too."

Honestly, he couldn't quite recall why he'd gone out of his way to get so many things for Muriel or for Inanna. Some gut instinct, probably, or just some need to know that he was looking after him enough in case Muriel wasn't quite taking care of himself.

 

Regardless, he slid out of bed after a few moments. Faust was coiled up about his ankle, and woke up when he got to his feet, curling up his leg and getting to his knee before Asra offered a hand and let her settle about his shoulders instead. She was cool, too, and that was like a godsend while he was so warm.

"Is it alright if I open the window?" Asra asked, pulling open a drawer and taking out a button up shirt. This one was baby blue with white stripes, and he pulled out a pair of loose black pants to go with it- ones where the crotch hung a little above the knees and it was made with a thin, breezy sort of fabric. With summer rapidly approaching, Asra was already fully prepared to wear the comfiest clothes he had for hot weather.

He was going to have a shower- just a quick one, though. A cool shower ideally, to help with the heat and to wake him up, but he wanted to make sure that Muriel was settled first, that he wouldn't be sat there with no idea on what to do. He turned to look at Muriel, not seeming to mind his shirtlessness and the fact that the tattoo on his chest was entirely exposed. He didn't even seem to remember that it was there- it was never that big of a deal with anyone else he hung out with, but it was still one of Lucio's marks. Just with a little extra detailing that Asra had done in Appra's memory.

"I'll need to open the window and the curtains, then I'll show you where the dog food is, for Inanna, before I have a quick shower. Is that alright?"

Muriel's nodded, his eyes not so subtly focused upon Asra's tattoo. He hadn't noticed it when they were laying down -- he was too preoccupied with the very important plan of not looking at Asra's chest, and of course with the fact Asra had been touching him so much. But then, right there with Asra standing before him and flaunting the ink about on his chest... Muriel couldn't take his gaze off of it. The way the colors rippled with the deep, scarlet red beetles tattooed across Asra's pectoral and up to his shoulder, their wings a flash of patterned gold. It spread two contrasting feelings through Muriel's system. Admiration and...

And a slight itch of dread.

He couldn't tell why, but something about the design tugged at him. Something about it made the skin of the back of his neck crawl. Other than that, it was nothing less than beautiful. Striking. Alluring to the eye. Muriel didn't know what about it irked him.

Perhaps it was just the subject.

Muriel liked most animals... but he could never say he was ever too fond of beetles.

"That's... that's fine."

He finally tugged his stare away from Asra's tattoo and instead brought it up to Asra's eyes. The slight frown and furrow of his brow was obvious -- Asra knew he'd been staring. Muriel had to say something to cover himself, and quick.

The first words he could think of tumbled past his lips. "I like your tattoo." A compliment? Even Inanna lifted her head, looking at him with a low whine of confusion. Muriel blushed and ducked his head. "I mean... it's fine, I guess."

And while that didn't erase Asra's confusion entirely, he did offer a slight smile and a nod.  
"Thanks," he said, though he didn't quite mean it with his own distaste toward the tattoo. "I was wondering why you kept looking at it."

He approached the bed, tugging open the curtains and exposing the room to the gorgeous morning sunlight, pushing open the window and letting out a soft sigh of relief at the cool breeze that drifted in and overcame him, making his shoulders relax and his eyes close.  
"It's nice today," he told Muriel. "Should be the perfect temperature. Not sure how perfect it'll be with the humidity of South End and your usual hard work, but it's nice as it is. Maybe I could treat you to an ice cream?"

He stepped back off of the bed, the open window filtering out the hot air.  
"Think it over for me. Inanna, come here," he whistled, opening the bedroom door and taking her out to the kitchen. So Muriel could stay in bed for a little more time, he showed Inanna the drawer where the dog food was and told her to point it out to Muriel when he fed her. He pet her, scratching between her ears as he returned to his room.

He walked to the bathroom, settling his hand on the door handle.  
"I'll only be about fifteen minutes," he said warmly to Muriel. "Inanna knows where the food is, she can point it out to you when you get up."

Muriel nodded, having pulled back the covers and shifted to the edge of Asra's bed. He didn't respond, and instead listened for the click of the bathroom door and the starting hiss of Asra's shower. It took a few more moments after that to convince himself to stand. To get up and stretch out his back from all aches that weren't even there -- Asra's bed had done wonders for him, really. Muriel tried not to think about it as he wandered his way out of Asra's room, closing the door securely behind him and making his way down to the kitchen where Inanna sat ever so patiently.

She stood at the sight of him, stepping around in a circle before the cabinet Asra had showed her before plopping back down. Muriel nodded his head, reaching a hand up to tiredly rub at his eyes as he reached for the handle. His eyes widened a little at the bad -- it was the good food. Veterinarian recommended, best choice for large dogs and familiars. Muriel ducked his head again, face heating up out of guilt as he reached forwards and hauled the large bag out, running his gaze along the kitchen for a bag of some kind while Inanna danced excitedly around his feet.

There was a set of colorful plastic bowls set above the stove, only serving the purpose of decoration, really. Muriel plucked one of them up, and set it down on the floor before scooping a few handfuls of that expensive dog food for Inanna's breakfast. She rushed up to it, chowing down eagerly the second the kibble hit the plastic. Muriel watched her a few moments, leaning on the counter with a tired sigh. She really seemed to like it. Perhaps he'd convince Asra to let him take the bag home for her...

Home. A flush of fear trickled through his system like acid. Right.

He didn't know what he was going to do when he left Asra's apartment. Did he go to work as though it'd been any other day? Did he go back to his apartment to try and miserably clean as best he could before Ludovico would show up? What would he do when Ludovico showed? Did he... did he leave? Run away? Where would he go?

Muriel reached his hand up to his head, letting his shoulders slump. There wasn't anywhere he could go, and even if there was somewhere he wouldn't. Muriel would never leave Vesuvia. He would never leave South End. Even if he could -- even if he had a one way plane ticket to anywhere he wanted, Muriel would never build the courage to do it. Lucio would find him. Someone would find him. His past would find him and drag him right back, link his wrists in chains and his neck in a collar and tug him back to his home like an animal bound on a leash. He could never leave. Never run...

Which meant there was nothing he could do but let the chains drag him back to Lucio.

'There is something.'

The soft voice in his head made Muriel sigh again, his lips twisting into a frown. Inanna lifted her head from her food bowl, looking up at him with a whine. He ignored her, turning his body around so he could look anywhere else but the wide eyed wolf staring him down. He crossed his arms over his chest, strands of hair -- hair Asra had tucked so delicately behind his ear -- fell over his face.

"I'm not doing it," he said quietly.

Inanna stepped up to his side, her claws clicking the hardwood floors. She whined again, her nose nudging at his leg. Muriel closed his eyes, and shook his head.

"I can't do that to him," he mumbled, raising up his shoulders. "I can't take Asra's money. I can't... I can't give his money to Lucio."

A chill darted down his spine at the name, the mere word tasting bitter on his tongue -- as it always did.

'No choice,' Inanna's voice murmured weakly in his head, the flush of her magic sizzling in his chest.

Muriel didn't respond, but he fluttered open his eyes, looking down at his feet. There were a few moments of silence from the both of them, only broken when Inanna offered a sad huff and clicked her way back to the food bowl. Muriel just continued to stare at the floor, listening to the distant hiss of Asra's shower. Listening until it squeaked to a stop, and the sound of footsteps followed in its wake.

The shower had been nice. Asra had been able to clear his head with a handful of sweet-scented shampoo and a cool shower. He usually leant more toward warm showers or hot showers, where the steam would bubble up and dance around the bathroom as he cleaned up, where he could melt into the warmth and let himself and his thoughts fade away for a little while. Today, however, with his sleeplessness and the warmth of his room, he decided that a cold shower would be best, and it was greatly appreciated.

By the time he was out of the shower and drying himself off with his white towel, he already felt better. His head clearer, more alert. He didn't feel like five seconds of standing still would knock him out anymore. The strong smell of forest fruits and pine leaves drifting from him. He hung up the towel when his hair was as dry as could be, collecting the clothes from the floor. He tugged his shirt over his shoulders, smoothing it down as he pulled on his boxers and pants. He tightened the waist on his pants with a small golden brooch- oval-shaped with a snake engraved on it, as most of his jewellery was.

Faust had been curled up in the sink, where she'd made herself a sort of bath while Asra was showering. The water was warm, and as it wasn't too difficult for her to turn the faucet on and off she'd managed to get it to an ideal temperature and fill the sink just enough to submerge her body, her head settled just above the water. Asra dipped his hands into the sink to take her out, getting a small towel and setting it on the floor for her to dry herself off with before coiling up, still slightly damp, around his ankle.

He began to the bedroom, shutting the bathroom door behind him.

"What would you like for breakfast today?" he asked Faust, pushing open the bathroom door and beginning, barefoot, through the apartment. Even if he left slightly wet footprints in his wake.

'Ice cream!' she chirped in his head, her voice full of enthusiasm.  
"You can't have that again. It's a special treat, and I need to cook something proper so I'm not fussing about with getting you ice cream."

 

He got into the living room, tugging one hand through his messy, unbrushed hair. It was already starting to dry a little, thankfully, and should be as fluffy as usual by the time he left.  
"Hey, Muriel, do you know what you want for breakfast? I've asked Faust but she hasn't got any practical ideas."

Muriel looked up at him, waiting a moment or so before shrugging his shoulders.

"I don't need anything," he mumbled. "I'm not hungry."

That's right. He wasn't. In fact, he felt sick to his stomach again. Without the numbness of the shock that had all but faded and without the emotional dreariness he'd slept off, Muriel had nothing to buffer his problem. Nothing to buffer his desperation.

Nothing but...

"Asra." Muriel's voice was quiet, but it still startled him ever so slightly. He lifted his head, trailing his eyes up to Asra, his brow furrowed with guilt. "I... I need your help."

The concern and worry that seemed to have Muriel shaken to his core was enough to make Asra frown, but the way that he spoke with such guilt, such anxiety burdening his soft voice, that almost made Asra anxious about hearing what Muriel wanted.  
"If I can give it, I will," he assured Muriel quietly, offering a smile- one that went unnoticed when Muriel turned away from him, not wanting to let their gazes lock. He didn't even want their eyes to meet. His words were struggled as he begrudgingly let them leave his lips, shoulders winding and rising with their building tension.

"I need... I need help with the loan shark. I don't have enough money for the next payment... and-... and I don't want your money. I don't want to give him your money. But I don't know what else to do. If I don't pay him I..." Muriel trailed off again, noticing how worried and dismal his tone had grown. It took him a few miserable moments to find something to say. "I-... I just won't make you pay for your paint job. And-... and I won't do this again, I promise. I just... I don't know what I'll do if I can't make that payment."

"How much do you need?"

Asra didn't hesitate. The fact that Muriel was asking for something that Asra would be able to do easily soothed his previous worry, and he'd already offered to give Muriel money the night before. He wouldn't mind giving away everything he had to Muriel if it would be enough to keep him safe.

He glanced back to the coffee table in the living room and told Muriel to wait a moment as he disappeared to get it, hopping over the back of the couch and taking his wallet. He walked around the couch on his way back, getting into the kitchen. He didn't even open his wallet, didn't dig around and rummage around for money, he just offered it to Muriel.

 

"Take whatever you need," he said. "Seriously- the stuff I have in there is like pocket change. I won't miss it. Even if you need more, I can go get more." He took Muriel's hand, setting the wallet in his palm so he wouldn't refuse it. Then, with his hold still on Muriel's hand, he gave a reassuring squeeze. "I'd do anything to help you, Muriel. I hope you know that."

Muriel had finally turned to look at him, the wallet tingling in his fingers. To think a week or so ago he'd been afraid to touch Asra's measly three hundred dollars, and there he stood. The entire leather wallet tucked into his hands. It was like disrespecting hallowed ground... but Asra was letting him. Asra was asking him to. Muriel felt Asra's hands squeeze against his own, his jaw muscles pulsing, his eyes flicking down to the ground -- feeling hotter than they should have.

"Thank you," he said, voice barely a whisper. He closed his eyes, trying to blink back the slight wall of tears that had begun to build, breath shuddering a little when he exhaled.

Muriel took his hands back, holding the wallet as delicately as he could as he flipped it open. The amount of cash and cards had been astounding, really, but Muriel didn't have the heart to feel impressed. His eyes met the smiling face of Asra's driving licence, training there for a moment or so before flicking up to the cash pocket. He felt dirty looking through it, but there was nothing he could do about that -- only blush as he removed about five hundred from Asra's wallet. It seemed to do nothing to its size or weight, the wallet felt the same as Muriel offered it back, but that didn't make him feel any better.

"You don't have to pay for your car," Muriel said again, even though he was sure Asra would refuse. "Also... you shouldn't keep so much cash in your wallet. It's dangerous to... to carry cash on you. I don't want you to get hurt."

It took a few moments for the words to process for Asra. His eyes widened a little at the sincere tone, the genuine worry and concern, but his face slowly began to light up and his lips tugged into a soft smile after only a few more moments.

"Are you that worried about me?" he asked, that soft smile still tugged onto his lips gently. Amusement shined in his slightly narrowed eyes, as if Muriel's coy almost-confession to being concerned about Asra was entertaining. He found it endearing, really, but the thought of anyone attempting to rob him- not least succeeding- was hard to think about.

Nonetheless, he took the wallet back from Muriel and set it down on the kitchen counter. Faust slithered from his arm to settle with it, wrapping up around it like a dragon with her hoard, or to protect it from those alleged robbers.

Muriel blushed, flicking his wide eyed gaze back up to Asra in surprise. He shook his head.

"No. I'm not worried I'm just-..." He trailed off, flicking his stare away and furrowing his brow. "I'm just concerned."

He looked down to the cash in his hands, wanting to push it into his pocket with the rest of his crumpled money he was able to hold onto, but then remembered he wasn't wearing the same pants. Muriel looked up to Asra again, the color in his face having died down a bit.

"Do you have my clothes from last night?" he asked. "I should probably put them on and get going... I have to clean up my apartment. And get back to work. I've already been here too long."

Asra hesitated.  
"You sure that you don't want anything to eat?" he asked, both because he wanted to get Muriel to eat in the morning and because he wanted Muriel to stay just a little longer. "Breakfast is the most important meal of the day." Maybe adding something else would sway him. Just a little extra push- it wouldn't hurt. Even if he wanted Muriel to see what he'd gone through the effort of doing the night before, he didn't want Muriel to leave his apartment just yet. The sooner he left, the sooner Asra wouldn't be getting to see him for god knows how long.

Muriel shook his head a little. "I'm okay," he insisted, nervously running his thumb back and forth across the wad of dollars in his hand. "I don't even usually eat breakfast... I'm fine."

"That makes it worse," Asra murmured but nodded, straightening up and going through the door at the far end of his kitchen, which contained his washer and his dryer. He took Muriel's folded clothes from the top, as well as the crisp hundred dollar bill he'd given Muriel as a tip that had been tucked away in the back pocket. He returned to the living room and handed the clothes to Muriel, his car keys and money sat on top.

"It was in your back pocket," Asra explained, just to clarify that he wasn't giving Muriel even more money solely to avoid having Muriel refuse his own hard earned money.

He sighed a little, flicking some of his damp hair from his face and looking at Muriel.  
"If that's it, then we can go to yours. I want to take you there, though, in case there's any more danger or anything else to worry about."

Muriel looked down at his clothes, noting the bloodstains Asra's washing machine wasn't able to get off. He frowned a little, looking down at himself and his borrowed clothes. He could at least change out of the sweatpants... and perhaps he would try to change the dressings on his hands. At least take them off -- they were still pink and dirty from the night before.

"Do you think it would be okay to take these off of my hands?" Muriel looked up to Asra. "They still kinda hurt but... I think they've stopped bleeding."

"Is that the best choice?" Asra asked, approaching Muriel and taking his free hand. "I could rewrap them but if you're going to be working today I don't want you to risk opening a wound and getting it infected." He was careful when he squeezed Muriel's hand, looking down at him where he sat.

He pulled back after a moment.  
"It should. I don't think you should take them off for another day or two- especially not with how deep some of those wounds were. Go on and get changed, then we can go if you really want to. And if you're sure that you won't have breakfast, I'll get you a cereal bar or some fruit to eat on the way over instead. It'll help, trust me. It wakes your body up and keeps you focused."

Muriel nodded slowly, still looking at the bandages. "I'd like if you rewrapped them," he said quietly, standing up straight. Without another word, he started back to the bathroom.

Inanna had finished eating, nearly licking the bowl clean before looking up from it, an evident smile on her face. Muriel patted her head as he walked past, to which she responded with a playful nip at his ankle. He avoided it rather artfully, though, making his way to the bathroom to change. Muriel ducked his head away from the mirror, for the usual reason, and because he didn't even want to think about what state his hair must have been in. He changed out his pants, tucked all his money into his back pocket, and reached for the door handle. He hesitated, though, eyes falling upon the hair band he kept on his wrist for when he worked at the shop.

Asra had said he wanted to see it pulled up. After everything... after everything Muriel supposed it was the least he could do. Especially with the tangled, curled mess of bed-head he could imagine himself plagued with.

Begrudgingly, Muriel leaned back and brought his hands to his hair, bombing his fingers through it and tying it back into a loose kind of bun. He kept the strands of hair beside his ears down, along with the shorter hair at the nape of his neck that wouldn't reach the hairband, but other than that it had all been pulled up. His face was clear from the hair he'd usually hide behind as he opened up the door, waiting a second before gathering his courage to step out.

He still lifted a self conscious hand to his face when he made his way into the kitchen, hiding the scar on his cheek.

 

"We could wrap my hands and then I can go," he mumbled, head a little ducked. "I can do it if you don't want to."

"No, no, I'll wrap it," Asra said warmly, knelt down with Inanna and looking at her, scratching behind her ears and letting her thump her tail at him. "Don't worry, it won't take long. I have experience with this kind of thing. Not for any specific reason, though, I'm just used to doing stupid things and when you're friends with someone like Julian, you need to learn how to tend to wounds."

Yeah, that was a good enough excuse.

He got to his feet, looking up at Muriel with that tied-back hair, feeling it hit him like a train. Muriel had already mentioned not liking putting his hair up, or only doing it to work, so Asra hadn't expected to look up and see Muriel with his hair tied back. He also hadn't expected that something as simple as that would make his cheeks flush red. Not just because of how Muriel's face was now framed without his long hair obscuring his sharp jawline or smooth cheekbones, but because he could see the pale skin of Muriel's neck and his hair didn't lightly brush over his shoulders.

He wasn't sure why it seemed to make his heart beat quicker or his cheeks burn the way that they did, but he decided that it would be a lot better- for him and for Muriel- if he didn't dwell on it.

"There should be some bandages in the bathroom, could you grab them? In the cabinet behind the mirror."

Muriel couldn't tell if he was relieved or disappointed Asra hadn't said anything about his hair -- it certainly saved him from a heavy blush though.

"Okay..." he sighed, lifting his head up a little. He made his way back over to the bathroom, flicked his eyes down on the floor to avoid the mirror, and opened up the cabinet. The roll of gauze had been beside a cup of unopened toothpaste tubes and a stick of deodorant -- Muriel plucked it up in his hand, hesitated for only a moment's pause, and then started back to the kitchen, closing the door behind him.

Inanna hurried to his side once he stepped in, licking at his hands. He could feel her wanting to tease him for pulling his hair back -- somehow she knew it had been for Asra -- but Muriel ignored her and held out the bandages to Asra. With his other hand, he tugged up one of the kitchen chairs behind him, and settled down in it so he didn't have to lean for Asra to reach his palms.

"We should probably hurry," he said quietly. "I want to get back to my apartment and... apologize for last night."

"I'll be as quick as I can," Asra said as he took the bandages, then taking one of Muriel's hands. He unwrapped the old bandages and set them aside, taking the edge of the roll of new bandages and first pressing it to the palm of before he began to loop the elastic bandages around his hand. Muriel's hands were a lot bigger than his were, though, and it made him worry about whether or not he'd have enough bandages to wrap both of Muriel's hands as thoroughly as he would with his own. A little reminder of the capabilities his magic possessed, however, was more than enough to shake off the worry.

He worked carefully, though it was necessary to apply pressure. He hooked the bandage around Muriel's thumb, only needing to wrap the base of his hand to protect the wounds, and wrapped tightly around the first layer of bandages.

It wasn't until Asra pulled the first layer taut that Muriel felt enough pain to make him hiss. The cuts had all been throbbing the whole time Muriel worked on them, pulsing a deep rooted sting with the beat of Muriel's heart the moment they hit fresh air. He dealt with it, however when Asra pulled the bandages tight against them, a sharp, fast breath of hair stuttered past his lips. Muriel's nose crinkled, eyes closed and face promptly turning its usual shade of red.

"Sorry," he mumbled, relaxing his features a little. His voice was gruff and quiet. "Stings."

"It does?" Asra asked, barely registering it as magic began to flow from his fingertips, spilling over into Muriel, seeping into his cuts and numbing them, working quickly to ease the pain. Asra would have done that only a few moments later if he hadn't already, but that didn't mean that he was any less surprised at how quickly his instincts had worked at giving Muriel this soothing magic. "Sorry. I didn't mean for it to hurt so badly. This should be better."

He didn't wait for a response, beginning to wrap the bandages around Muriel's hand, always making sure that the painkiller magic would still be seeping into Muriel's system. It didn't take much effort- after yesterday, he'd found out how low Muriel's tolerance was, so this much of the process was easy. It didn't take effort to maintain that little buzz. And soon, he was tying the bandage, sticking it down and using a little extra magic to seal it firmly in place. That should allow for Muriel to work and to play with Inanna without the risk of the bandages unravelling.

Repeating the process with the second was much easier, and no doubt it was more pleasant for Muriel without that subtle stinging shooting though his hand. And when Asra ran out of bandages, he simply let his fingertips glow as he stretched out the fabric and watched it grow, using that to finish wrapping Muriel's hand.

"There," he said softly, brushing his fingertips along the coarse skin of Muriel's hands as he pulled away. "Is that better?"

Muriel's eyes had gone soft and lidded when Asra's magic coursed its way through his cuts and into his skin -- along his nerves with that thrumming buzz of comfort. He blinked a little when he was addressed, a little startled out of his daze as he flicked his eyes down to his freshly wrapped hands. Already, he missed the warmth of Asra's touch.

"Yeah," he said, nodding. "Better."

 

He gave a low sigh, closing his hands and pushing up from his chair. "I should get going," he said softly, shrugging his shoulders. "I... thanks again. For everything. I don't know how I could ever... ever even think about repaying you."

Still smiling, Asra settled his hand on Muriel's bicep and looked up at him.  
"It's nothing I need to be repaid for. Just keep yourself safe and it'll be more than enough for me." He gave Muriel's arm a reassuring little squeeze before he turned and began to the door, collecting some blue shoes- ones that matched his shirt- and tugging them on. Faust, still carrying his wallet, followed him through, allowing Asra to collect her and settle her over his shoulder. He tucked his wallet into his pocket, then collecting his phone when he was sure that he didn't have anything work-related to do.

"We can go now," he said, his palm pressing flat against the door. A small surge of magic and it clicked unlocked, allowing Asra to pull it open. "But I'm still going with you. Just in case something happens."

Muriel blinked, following Asra to the door. He parted his lips to tell Asra he didn't have to come — but they were already out in the hall, and he doubted Asra would take no for an answer. Inanna has bounded out the door, energized from the expensive dog kibble, her tail wagging behind her as she started excitedly towards the elevator. Muriel closed Asra's apartment door behind him, hearing the click as it magically locked, and then followed Inanna — Asra at his side. Faust had been curled around Asra's shoulders, her head raised up and her cute little eyes watching Muriel with a twinkle. She must have liked cuddling.

"I'll let you take me to my apartment building," Muriel started once they got into the elevator, doors closing slowly before them. "But I can't let you come in. The glass is dangerous. And... the mess is embarrassing."

And Muriel didn't remember what he did with that damn note.

He dully remembered tearing it to shreds at a red light on the way to Asra, meaning the bloodied pieces would be scattered about his car, unreadable. The idea still didn't help the slight edge of worry.

What if the man came back and left him a new one? What if he was there in the apartment building, waiting for him? Ready to call him out for being the Scourge again?

Muriel closed his eyes and sighed, trying to ignore the sudden onslaught of anxiety.

Asra took ahold of Muriel's hand gently, giving it a gentle, reassuring squeeze. He looked up at him, reaching up to brush some more of those strands of hair behind his ear.

"Hey," he said softly. "I can see you're worrying. It'll be fine, okay? I promise. No matter what happens, I've seen worse, I've dealt with worse, and I'm perfectly content helping you."

He didn't like seeing Muriel so upset. These last few nights had been so bad for Muriel, it made Asra so worried about him even if he shouldn't have been. He fell into silence, though, keeping his eyes on Muriel as he the elevator whirred down from floor to floor. Slowly, though, it reached the bottom and dinged as the doors opened again. Asra, still holding Muriel's hand, waved to the girl behind the desk as he took Muriel out to the parking lot.

And, eagerly, Asra led Muriel to his car- to the old pickup truck that was parked across the road. Overnight, Asra had cleaned it up- he'd gotten a new steering wheel, taken it to get new seats and to be properly cleaned, inside and out. He'd even gotten a pine scented air freshener. He would have gotten a new coat of paint on it if it wouldn't take so long to dry.

"Go on," he said, looking up at Muriel, excited for him to see the changes he'd made. This was just the tip of the iceberg.

Muriel stopped in his tracks — his feet skidding upon the pavement of the sidewalk the moment he let his sulking gaze trail up to his car. He blinked, half expecting the image to snap back to normal — as though he needed to wake up. Perhaps just clear his eyes. However, the dazed flutter of his eyes did nothing to change his truck's new appearance.

It shined happily in the sunlight, cleaned so much it seemed to acquire a new luster. The old green paint was a shining hunter color, wiped and sprayed down from its dirt and grime Muriel hadn't bothered to deal with. The windows twinkled, as did the mirrors. The truck bed had been cleaned out and shined. There was no more dust gathered around the tire hoods. The tires themselves were new. Muriel, dumbfounded, started forward without a word, running his astonished gaze over the car and into the window. The front two seats had been fixed, or at least covered. No wolf scratches. The steering wheel, previously worn out by use, was magically sturdy again — made from a handsome leather and plastic frame.

Muriel brought a hand up to his suddenly light head. He felt like he could pass out at the sight. His other hand settled on the hood of his truck at the slightest wobble of his knees.

"Did- did you-...?" He couldn't even finish his sentence. Muriel looked back into the car. He couldn't even feel his lips curl into a smile, his eyes a little brighter in the reflection of the window. "It looks amazing... how... How?"

Muriel's speechlessness and cheer brought a wider smile to Asra's lips, filling him with a sense of pride. He was happy that he could help Muriel so much, but nothing made him feel better than seeing that astounded expression on Muriel's face, his eyes shining like a kid with a new toy. Even Inanna seemed excited by it, though Asra would have to tell her that she wasn't allowed to scratch up or chew the seats anymore. He'd even gotten her a couple of chew toys to gnaw on instead during long drives, hoping that that would sway her away from destroying Muriel's car.

"I put a little effort into cleaning it up." Asra took a few steps forward, looking warmly up at Muriel. "I had time last night. When you went to sleep, I came out and cleaned this up a bit for you. I know you don't like it when I spend too much money on you but I figured that this wouldn't do any harm. I knew a few mechanics that would be willing to work if I paid enough and, surely enough, your car should be a little better now."

He started to the passenger side, his hand settling on the door.  
"So are we going to get in or do you want to sit here and ogle your new car for a little longer?"

Muriel studied his car for a moment or so, trying hard to wipe the smile from his face — stubborn enough to lift his hand to his lips to cover his mouth.

"We can go," he said, running his eyes along the body of his truck. He forgot how nice the color had been. Even with the scratches and chips of paint, beneath the dirt and dust Muriel had neglected to wash off the shade of green at been quite pretty. Muriel let his fingers graze over the side of his door before opening it, turning over his shoulder to look at Asra again.

For the first time in a long, long while, Muriel's smile might have twitched into the lightest little smirk.

"I guess that means I'm not your only mechanic..."

A joke? Muriel didn't know, but he did know his smile still wouldn't leave him as he slipped into the new, comfortable driver's seat of his truck.

Settling down in the passenger side, patting for Inanna to settle in the footwell, Asra looked fondly at Muriel. It was a little odd to hear him make a comment like that, one with a small hint of humour in his voice whether it was a joke or not.  
"Well," he began, leaning a little closer to Muriel. "You're not my only mechanic, but you're my favourite by far." He watched Muriel a few moments longer to see his reaction, a sly, foxish sort of smile quirked onto his lips.

Ah, Asra was much better at that than Muriel was. He felt his face heat up, eyes flicking down to the side, his shoulders raised in a pouted sort of shrug.

"I still don't know why," he grumbled, sticking the keys into the ignition. The car came to life faster than usual — whether Asra had gotten it fixed, or it had just gotten its own little confidence boost from its new look, Muriel didn't know.

"Still?" Asra asked, learning back a little. "It's a lot of things. Maybe you'll figure it out eventually."

He licked his lips, settling back in his chair as Inanna got content in her place. He pulled the door shut, beginning to scratch behind her ears. Her paws settled on his legs, her head resting on his lap as he began to coo at her, running his fingers through her soft fur.

Muriel shook his head a little, face still a little pink. He cast his gaze around the interior of his car, finding it cleaned out of all the garbage — hopefully the remains of that note as well. He also didn't spot any kind of parking ticket for not paying the toll the night before. Either Asra paid it all off, or he managed to sweet talk any meter maids the same way he did with the employees at his apartment building. He tried to ignore it, already backing up out of the parking spot.

His smile had faded by then.

Asra settled back in his seat, sighing as he turned his gaze to the window. He rolled it down, leaning over a little to let the breeze cool him down. It was warm out, as expected, probably nearing ninety degrees fahrenheit, so the breeze was greatly welcomed.

"It's nice today," he said to Muriel again, closing his eyes to bask in the sunlight and the warmth it cast over his skin. The wind whistled through his hair, which had dried by then, leaving it fluffing up in the wind. This was pleasant. It might have been the weather, it might have been the weight of Inanna's head on his lap, or it might have been the company. It might have been the safety he felt in Muriel's company, able to just turn his head and see someone he knew would look after him. Someone he looked after and cared about and he knew was doing the same for him.

"I could treat you to an ice cream if the weather keeps up like this," he said when the first comment didn't elicit a response. "I know some really cute ice cream places. They won't be quiet at times like this but I could easily rent out the place if you want it to be private."

Muriel flicked his eyes over to Asra for just a moment brow furrowed. He looked back to the road though, readjusting his grip on the wheel. He shrugged his shoulders a little, leaned back comfortably in his chair — cruising along the surprisingly traffic easy streets of the city.

"I can't today," he said quietly. "There's too much to do. And if you spend any more money on me..." Muriel trailed off, not even knowing what he meant to finish with. He just rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Maybe some other day, though..."

"Some other day?" Asra echoed, nodding. "Sounds perfect. Some other day. I'll let you know when I'm free, okay? Usually Wednesdays but if I skip work I can go with you any day. I'd do that happily to spend time with you."

He leant down, pressing a kiss to Inanna's forehead and scratching under her chin.  
"Oh, aren't you a good girl? Hm?" he cooed, kissing at her. "You're going to need to be really careful in this car now, though. The seats are too nice, and you can't keep scratching everything up!" He opened the glovebox, taking out a chew toy shaped like a bone. He offered it to her, watching her eyes light up and hearing her tail start to thump against the floor.

 

"Is this a fair trade?" he asked her, holding the toy out of reach. "If I give you this, you have to promise me that you won't go chewing on the seats, okay?" His eyes flicked to Muriel. "What does she say?"

Muriel almost missed the changing of the light they had been stopped at — his eyes had been focused upon the scene of Asra and the fairly happy Inanna beside him. It took one short honk from a car somewhere behind him to startle him back into the real world, his eyes shooting open as he pressed down on the gas and started forwards. He apologized gruffly for the slight bump of the car, and Asra dismissed it with a smile — his knowingly narrowed eyes making Muriel's face warm.

"She says it's fair," he said quietly, nodding his head. They were in the outskirts of the city, and the traffic was still light. Muriel's fingers tapped lightly along the curve of the wheel. "She also says thanks. She doesn't have too many toys... maybe because she rips them up to shreds when I buy them."

Inanna gave a whine, before leaning up a little more and taking the chew toy from Asra's hand. It squeaked in her jaws, and she shook it a little — her ears flapping and her tail thumping against the mat of the footwell.

"I'll get her new ones whenever she needs them," Asra said, scratching behind her ear for a few more moments before pulling back to lean against his chair. He sighed happily, his eyes drifting over to Muriel. "Are you feeling alright? You aren't too nervous about getting home, are you?" he asked, moving his hand to settle on Muriel's as it rested on the gearshift.

He didn't want to bring it up again, not when Muriel was clearly still nervous, but he wanted to talk about this. Hopefully ease some anxiety.  
"I won't follow you into the house if you don't want me to," he added. "If you're worried about the mess. It wouldn't be my place to insist on going to your house if you didn't want me there, so you don't need to worry about saying no to me."

He turned to look at Muriel, his thumb running over his knuckles and his brow furrowed with concern. He never knew what would and wouldn't upset Muriel to hear, so he was constantly torn between being bold with what he said and keeping himself in check to avoid upsetting Muriel.

Muriel tensed a little when he felt Asra's hand lay on his own, accompanied with that question — however he relaxed almost instantly, the magic tickling his nerves the same way Asra's thumb tickled his knuckles. He sighed a little, tiredly lifting his shoulders up and dropping them.

"I'd rather go in alone," he mumbled. "You... you can Uber, I guess. I'm fine, though. I... I've been through things worse than some break in. I just need some... some new locks or something."

And a new bed. And a new fridge. And more food. And some assurance that the man who robbed him wouldn't go spreading his secrets. Then Muriel would really be fine-- but it wasn't like he's say any of that out loud.

"Alright," Asra nodded, sighing softly as he took Faust from around his neck with his free hand. He reached over to Muriel, letting Faust coil her tail around his hand and lean over to press her face against his cheek, booping at him.

'Friend! Don't worry!' she chirped as Asra pulled her back again, her voice still ringing in his mind the more she spoke.  
"She doesn't want you to worry." He let her settle around his shoulders again, curled up just below his gold choker like a scaly necklace. "She says that she has a feeling that everything will be fine for you."

Well, part of that was true. The other part was that he knew it would be okay, and so did Faust. Asra wouldn't let him go home at all if he didn't think he'd be safe.

Muriel managed a nod and a gentle twitch of a smile, but he didn't respond. He kept his eyes on the road, pushing the gas a little harder once the cityscape around them began to morph as they crossed the bridge over to the highway. He felt a little more confident with his truck's new luster -- a little less ashamed of his usual display. Why he hadn't gotten his car fixed up sooner, Muriel didn't know. Perhaps it just never crossed his mind, or he didn't want to waste the resources of his shop on himself when they could be used to make money. Whatever it was, he cursed himself for it. The new cushioned seats did wonders against his already soothed back.

The rest of the drive to South End was relatively quiet. They crossed the suburbs, and then the woody patch of land, and then finally emerged into the grey little pocket tucked in Vesuvia's farthest and most shameful corner. Muriel slowed his truck down, quieting the engine as his spirits began to sink. Asra had been a nice distraction for that little while, but he could feel reality on his doorstep.

Muriel would have to skip work that day for sure to try and sort out his apartment -- salvage what he could and discard the rest. Fix the door somehow and try to buy new locks as soon as he could. For the doors and the windows. Hopefully he still had blankets in the closet from winter. He wouldn't be sleeping in a real bed for a good, long while.

Finally, he pulled up to the parking lot of his building. Flashes of the night before attacked him with several pangs of burning embarrassment. He ducked his head a little as he pulled into his usual parking spot, listening to the grumble of the engine fade as he pulled the keys from the ignition. He gave a low sigh as silence lapsed through the cars tiny atmosphere, slumping his shoulders as he turned to look at Asra, a tired look in his eye.

"I know you're going to say no but... at least let me pay for your Uber home. You didn't need to ride out here with me... especially since I'm not even letting you in my apartment..."

"Absolutely not," Asra said, exactly as predicted, looking fondly over at Muriel. "It's fine. I just wanted to keep you company a little longer, I can afford to get back on my own and I want to pay for it. You don't owe me anything."

That was a half-lie. He wanted to go in with Muriel, actually, but Muriel really didn't owe him anything. He wanted to go in with Muriel to continue to comfort him in the face of his apartment and to see Muriel's reaction to it. Instead, though, he had to respect what Muriel wanted and how he felt. They'd found a nice balance in their relationship, a nice mutual sort of respect, and he didn't dare upset that. He wanted to preserve it, keep them and their relationship safe, keep Muriel comfortable around him.

He didn't say anything about it, but finding that Muriel had immediately come to him when there had been a problem had made his heart soar, and he definitely wasn't going to jeopardize that for any reason.

"I just wanted to be sure you'd get here safe," he said, squeezing Muriel's hand gently.

Muriel sighed, but he nodded his head, reluctantly pulling his hand away and reaching down to unclick his seatbelt. He didn't respond, his face red as he turned and popped the door to his truck open. Inanna pushed up from Asra's lap -- awkwardly trying to turn around in the tight space as she waited for her own door to open. Muriel got to it before Asra could even reach forwards, holding it as Inanna leapt to the ground with her new chew toy. He also held it for Asra, who offered him a charming grin as he slipped from his seat.

The door clapped shut and Muriel turned around, looking at Asra a moment before flicking his guilty stare down to the ground. He started to ask if he could pay for the Uber again, but he stopped himself. Then he was about to ask if Asra wanted to go up to the apartment with him, but he stopped himself again. Muriel ended up standing in awkward silence for the next few moments, his face heating up more and more and not really from the beating sun above them.

"Thanks..." he managed to mumble after a while. "For everything. I wish I could... I... I don't know. You just helped more than anyone ever has. Thanks... I guess..."

Asra settled his hand on Muriel's bicep again, giving it a soft squeeze, his eyes fixed on Muriel, his gaze soft.

"You don't need to thank me for any of it," he said warmly, his voice as coaxing and as warm as ever. He only spoke to Muriel like this, with this level of warmth and fondness, with this patience and tenderness. He couldn't recall the last time he'd had anyone he had cared so strongly about someone, much less been so cautious and affectionate toward them.

He reached up, running his thumb along Muriel's cheekbone as he cupped his face.  
"Text me, okay? Let me know if everything's okay. Tell me how bad the damage is and if you need anything from me to fix it. Anything for you."

Muriel flicked his gaze away, already knowing he'd begun to blush again. However, instead of pulling back, he absently tipped his head closer — brow furrowing delicately over tired, heavy lidded eyes. He gave a soft sort of breath, too quiet to be a sigh really. If it was up to him, he would have stayed like that — in Asra's touch — for a long, long time.

But it wasn't up to him.

"Okay..." he mumbled, finally leaning away. The second Asra's hand left his cheek, Muriel felt a sort of longing stretch in his chest. It took a lot not to add a grumbled thanks or a sorry as he took a step back, bandaged fingers toying with the hem of his shirt. "I... I guess I'll see you later?"

"Of course," Asra said, pulling his hand away and tucking it into his pocket even as it buzzed in the aftermath of such tender touches. "As soon as you're next free, let me know. I'm going to have to go to work tonight since I couldn't go last night and my boss is already on my ass, but any other time I'll be free."

He took a step back, digging his phone out of his pocket, deciding that he'd ask Julian to come and get him so they could go to work together after this, not wanting to fuss about with ubers and how much it would cost to get back just because he didn't know how much change he had. More than enough, sure, but he wasn't going to go handing out hundred dollar bills if the ride didn't cost that much.

"Text me," he reminded Muriel again, dialling Julian's number and bringing the phone to his ear. "Good luck, Muriel."

Muriel frowned a little, not really wanting to ask what Asra had done the night before if he hadn't worked. He just sighed, drew his shoulders up, and offered a little wave as he stepped away, Inanna stepping happily at his side. She squeaked her toy again as they made their way into the lobby, ignoring Muriel's best efforts at keeping on the down low. He ducked his head walking past the boy at the desk — not wanting questions for the night before.

But another squeak from Inanna seemed to give him away.

"Hey- big guy," the kid said, leaning up in his chair. "Are you alright?"

Muriel stopped in his tracks, shooting the unapologetic Inanna a glance before trailing his guilty gaze up to the desk.

"Yeah..." he sighed, reaching his hands up to their opposite arms in a sort of self-hug. "I'm sorry about last night. I wasn't... thinking."

The guy shrugged. "You're fine," he said, tone still a bit wary. "On the bright side, I think someone left you something in your apartment. Some guy was here last night asking for your room."

Muriel's system went icy. His voice was quiet when he spoke again.

"What...?"

"He told me not to tell you so... figured it was a surprise or something," he explained tiredly, shrugging his shoulders. "Is it your birthday or something?"

Shaking his head, Muriel turned and made his way towards the staircase. He mumbled out a hushed no as he left up it, not really hearing the half-hearted good luck called to him from the lobby. His heart was in his throat as he stepped down his hallway. Why? He didn't know. Whoever wanted to find him would have nothing but a messy, rather empty apartment. Muriel tried to tell himself that as he nervously made his way towards his door — not bothering with the keys. The door had been broken, after all...

But then Muriel found himself blinking a little when he reached to push it open.

Completely fixed. Sealed up tight. Almost better than it was before the initial break in.

Muriel furrowed his brow, taking a step back as a numb hand reached into his back pocket for his keys. Perhaps the building had fixed it? But... it had been done so well. The splintered chunks of wood had been sealed back into its frame, almost as if with magic.

Magic.

Oh.

Muriel didn't hesitate opening up his door after that dawning realization, wary eyes peeking into his room as the no longer creaky door began to swing open. He felt his shoulders slump and his eyes widen at the sight inside — a look of astonishment crossing his features, despite having an idea of what happened before he had even opened the door.

It was a complete opposite of the sight he had discovered the night before.

Clean, open floors, polished and swept better than they had been before. No more glass. No more garbage. No bloody, shredded note. Upright tables and chairs, all fixed from their previously sorry, broken state. A new bed and mattress sat humbly in its place against the walls, fitted with new, clean covers that matched the hunter green of his car. Every cabinet had been shut and sealed tight. Every window had been repaired, and had been fixed with new, thick locks that glinted silver when Muriel's hand reached over to flick the light on. The bulbs of his apartment were even brighter than before. Perhaps brighter than when he initially bought the place.

Finally, Muriel's dumbfounded gaze settled upon the vase of flowers set upon his almost brand new kitchen table. He wordlessly stumbled over to it, lips parted into a shocked sort of gape as he ran his gaze up and down the collection of belladonnas and forget-me-nots. They were beautiful and vibrant, perfumed too. Filled the whole apartment with their light scent. Muriel reached a number finger up to grace one of the delicate petals, brow furrowing as it spotted a flash of white in his peripheral. He flicked his eyes down, and spotted a crisp piece of paper, inked with pretty purple handwriting, and signed with a heart. It read:

"I know how worried you were, so I did what I could to help. It's not much, but I was hoping it would make you feel better. I've left you a meal plan and restocked your fridge. You know you can always come to me if you need help. Give Inanna my love, and I hope she likes what I got for her :)

\- Asra ♥

(P.S. I didn't know if you were going to ask me for money or not, but either way I've left you a little gift!)"

Surprisingly, the moment Muriel's gaze met the heart signed at the bottom, his lips curled into a gentle smile. A slight huff of laughter left his lips, his hand lifting up to his head as he looked up from the note and around the room. He didn't want to think about what the little gift could have been. Hell, the whole apartment was a gift. His system told him to feel guilty, to feel horrible, but all Muriel could feel in his chest was a light sense of relief. Like he could sink down into the new mattress and finally take a well deserved nap. He laughed again, looking down at Inanna, who'd been sniffing around the cabinets with the toy still in her jaws.

"He's so weird," Muriel mumbled through his grin.

Inanna gave a huff in agreement, nosing open one of Muriel's cabinet to find a bag of that nice dog food she'd eaten at Asra's apartment.

'Nice!' she corrected, her tail wagging a mile a minute.


	11. Rising Debts

As expected, it was around seven o'clock at night when Muriel heard a knock at his door. He hadn't bothered going to work that day -- so all Muriel could do was sit around his clean apartment and wait for that knock. Muriel had been watching the flowers as he waited, fingers absently tracing each word of Asra's note, all the way down to the heart. The six hundred and something dollars still rested in his pocket, feeling heavy the moment he stood up from his seat at the table to answer the door.

The five hundred dollars, that little present Asra had mentioned in his note, still sat on his pillow, too important to touch so soon.

Muriel made his way up to the door, pausing the moment his fingertips touched the cool doorknob. He was about to blow six hundred dollars -- all of which having been from Asra's wallet. There was nothing he could do about it though. Even with all of the new locks Asra had installed onto his door, Muriel couldn't just keep the door closed and locked forever. So he took a deep breath and unlocked the door, only opening it up a crack and peeking out into the hall at Ludovico's tired face.

"Where's Bludmila?" Muriel asked, unimpressed. The two usually took turns hounding him for money.

Ludovico frowned at him, his lips curled into a cool scowl. His eyes were dark and haggard, his skin pale and his hair ruffled. He looked a bit sickly, actually. Muriel knew the feeling all too well.

"I'm collecting. Again," Ludo growled, rolling his bloodshot eyes. He held out his hand, wiggling his fingers. "Boss wants eight hundred. Hand it over so I can go."

Muriel began to reach towards his pocket, but he froze, eyes widening and flicking back up to the tired man in his doorway.

"Eight hundred?" he echoed, voice a little quieter than before. "It... it was only six hundred last week. Why eight hundred?"

Ludovico's features, to Muriel's disgust, lit up at the slight fear in Muriel's tone. He looked up fast, previously narrowed eyes widening as he leaned forward, lips twitching into a smile. "You don't have it? The money?"

"I do-" Muriel watched Lucovico's shoulders slump, "-I... I just didn't think it would be that much."

Sighing, Ludo rolled his eyes, leaning back and stuffing his hands into the pocket of his sweatshirt. His cold scowl was back, and as obvious as ever. "I told you. Boss wants you back bad. He's gonna keep raising the price until he can drag you back to the Palace." Ludovico's tone was blunt and gruff, words grumbled out through his curled lips. "Just pay up so I can get the hell out of this place."

Muriel's features darkened a little, but he nodded, mumbling something about being right back as he shut the door. He turned to the five hundred dollars on the bed, his posture falling into its usual slump, brow pitching a little above his eyes. Inanna, who'd been curled up beside the bed gnawing on her chew toy, whined at him. Muriel ignored her as he reached for the five hundred Asra left him, taking out two hundred dollar bills. He made his way back to the door, and opened it up again, wearing his own frown as he counted out his money from his pocket and handed it over.

"I'm guessing that means next week is a thousand?" Muriel mumbled weakly, watching Ludo count over every bill again.

Ludovico scoffed. "I'm not telling you," he said icily, hatred sharp on his tongue as he stuffed Muriel's cash into his back pocket. "You're making my life a living hell, you know that right?" He gave another sarcastic huff when Muriel didn't respond, shaking his head as he turned around. "See you next time, Scourge."

Muriel watched him walk off, eyes narrowed, jaw muscles pulsing as he grit his teeth. It took a few moments for him to step back from the door and push it to a close, locking every lock again before he let his system relax a little. He lifted a hand to his head, rubbing his temple. It seemed as though Lucio had been raising the price up about two hundred dollars every other tuesday. Next payment would be a thousand. The one after that would be a thousand two hundred. And then on and so forth until Muriel's never-ending debt was paid off.

How he'd keep up? Muriel didn't know. All he knew was that he didn't want to think about it.

He moved to the bed, reaching down to pluck up his phone. Earlier, back when he first got to the apartment, he'd been texting back and forth with Asra. A lot of 'you really didn't have to do that's from his end, and a lot of 'you don't have to thank me's from Asra's. Muriel pulled up the conversation, staring at it for a moment or so before sighing and typing out a new one. He wasn't sure Asra would answer -- he had work, after all -- but he typed it out anyways.

'payment went fine. thnks again...'

It was... relieving, really. To have someone who knew at least a little bit about his debt. Someone who knew at least a little bit about the secret he carried over his tired, aching shoulders. He'd never tell Asra anything else about it -- even if it killed him, he'd do his best to keep the darker parts of his secret hidden. But... that little sliver Asra held for him... it helped him breathe a little easier.

Muriel supposed that's why he sent the message.

The response came through only a matter of moments later. Whatever Asra was doing at work, it must have been easy work. He didn't seem to be preoccupied. Either that or he responded immediately regardless of whatever he'd been doing which, in all fairness, was pretty likely.

'Good to hear! (◕‿◕✿) I've got work for another little while but maybe we could hang out this week?'

Those three dots appeared as Asra began to type out another message, which came up a few seconds later, before Muriel could even reply.

'I know some pretty cute places we could meet up!! Faust and I used to visit this place in the woods- it's super pretty!! There's a lake that we could sit by? I could pack a picnic for us? \ (•◡•) /'

And that message was quickly followed up with another.

'Faust says she misses you! ｡◕‿‿◕｡'

Muriel furrowed his brow at the flood of messages, narrowing his eyes a little as he typed out his own.

'arent you at work'

And another few moments of silence where Asra typed out his reply, but it appeared on screen shortly. Whatever he was doing couldn't have been that important if he was so eager to reply to Muriel's every message.

'Yep! Hard at work ᕙ(⇀‸↼‶)ᕗ'

In fact, Asra wasn't doing much just yet. He and Julian were in the elevator now, having just visited Lucio. He'd been tempted to bring up Muriel when they'd gotten to the office, but not only would he have hated letting Julian be privy to something Muriel clearly didn't want anyone to know, but he knew that it should wait at least a few more days. Bringing up the unfairness of his treatment to Muriel on payment day wouldn't have gone well. Not just because Lucio would have dismissed it with some idle "I'm already getting his money, what's it matter? You're too late to stop me from taking it" or whatever else, but because Lucio likely wouldn't even listen to him. When he was going to be making as much profit as he made on collection day, he could be called every name and sworn at with every curse under the sun and he wouldn't have bat an eye.

Because all that ever mattered to Lucio was money, evidently.

They'd been assigned another mundane task, yet another boring little retrieval mission. Someone had been falling behind on their debts and they were going to go find whoever it was to demand the money up front. Naturally, Asra had asked why Ludovico or Bludmila hadn't been drafted and put on that job instead, but Lucio had told them that this particular debtor was aggressive and had a history of lashing out. He'd said, with a slick purr to his voice, that he wanted to put his 'two best men' on one of his more difficult jobs.

And Julian hadn't stopped whining about how unfair it was. He was sober today, thankfully, but that didn't mean that he was going to be any quieter. He complained more when he was sober, usually because the alcohol wasn't distracting him from these minor inconveniences. Asra had just turned his attention to his phone to distract himself from Julian whining in his ear.

'Julian won't shut up though (¬_¬) You know what he's like.'

Muriel couldn't help but crack a smile, leaning on the corner of his bed, head buried into his phone like a lovestruck teenager. He liked that Asra was getting annoyed by Julian -- he didn't know why of course, but Asra's frowning emoji had left a little sparkle of something like satisfaction in his chest. His lips were still quirked as he typed in his next message.

'yeah. unfortunately'

He paused, not wanting the conversation to die there. 'your car will be done soon. we could meet up when you pick it up ig...'

'Today or tomorrow? (✿'‿')'

But before Muriel could even get time to respond, Asra sent another text.

'I'm looking forward to it!! (ღ˘⌣˘ღ) I can get Julian to drop me off after work if you're free today, or I could uber over tomorrow? Then we could go somewhere special together (▰˘◡˘▰)'

Asra was hoping that they could meet up that day. He'd missed Muriel, even if they hadn't been apart for long, and he was looking forward to having his picnic with him. He'd been wanting to go back to that lake, and the docks where people used to string up canoes or kayaks in the summer were perfect for sitting on. It was empty by now, anyway. Asra was one of the only people who went there, and he'd cleaned it up a little to make it perfect for whenever he wanted to be alone.

He'd like to share somewhere like that with Muriel.

Muriel blinked, cocking his head to the side. They had just spent the whole night together, and that morning too... and... Asra hadn't grown sick of him yet? Muriel frowned a little, watching the texts, scanning through them and those cute emojis for anything that would hint hesitance or reluctance of any sort. There had been nothing but enthusiasm.

'i skipped work today. i can try to finish your car tm then we can... go to wherever your talking abt ig'

A moment passed. Muriel began typing again, waiting a long time before gathering his courage and pressing send.

'im looking forward to it too'

Another pause... Muriel was fast to add his next message.

'i guess.'

'Okay! I'll see you tomorrow, then (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧'

The doors to the elevator opened and Asra sent a glance to Julian before he began to the doors. Julian would, again, be driving them to their provided address. Lucio had said it would only be a thirty minute drive, forty five minutes at most, so Asra would be able to talk to Muriel on the drive over if he got any more messages.

His eyes flickered over to Julian, a little smile on his lips.  
"Do you think we'll be getting paid for this job?" he asked, still amused by the memory of Lucio's outburst during his last visit. "I might slip up and what do you think he'll do this time? I'm already not going to be paid for the next week or so."

Julian glanced at him from the corner of his eye, a grin tugging onto his lips. He turned the key in the ignition, his dodge challenger- a striking cherry red to match his general aesthetic- purring as it jolted to life, and he was sailing off down the road within a matter of moments.  
"Can't say for sure." He glanced over at Asra for a moment, then turning his attention back to the road. "We'll have to see whether or not Lucio will be having some kind of a hissyfit when we get back."

Asra laughed, his lips still curled in that smile -- from the texting with Muriel and from jokes about Lucio.

"When is he not having a hissy fit?" he said, voice slick with an oily sarcasm. "Every time he opens his mouth he's bleating like a goat."

He turned around, pressing the button to the passenger window and watching it roll down and disappear into the car door. Asra leaned on it, letting his arm hang out of the window and his fingers drum on the exterior of the car as they drove, the wind nice as it brushed across his skin and weaved through his hair. With his other hand he turned on the radio, flicking to the station he set up for himself on Julian's system, his grin growing as one of his favorite pop songs began thumping from the speakers. He tapped his hand along to the beat, nodding his head along with it as the hot, summer air flushed through the car.

"We better not be out here all night," he sighed, tipping his head to the side. Faust gave a gentle bob of her head in agreement, her tongue flicking out of her mouth. "Let's make this fast. Go for the knees first -- that always makes this go stuff faster."

"Right," Julian nodded. "We mention the money. If we get it, we get it and go, if we don't, we go for the knees first." He sighed, sinking back a little in his chair. "No mercy, right? We go fast, we go hard, and we leave no room for leniency. We can't fuck up like last time, either."

His lips tugged into a sort of sneer, brows furrowing.   
"I'm hoping that this is over soon, too," he muttered. "I've got a table waiting for me at the Rowdy Raven tonight, and I don't want to miss out on the drinks I could have because someone forgot to pay their dues." He reached over to change the radio station, not a fan of such cheerful pop music, but Asra smacked his hand away and decided to leave it. He moved his other hand to the steering wheel instead.

He sighed, running one hand through his hair, tugging his curly red hair from his face.  
"Could you get the address up on the satnav or something?"

Asra nodded, leaning back into the car and fiddling with the navigator of Julian's car. It took him a moment or so to remember what the address had been — somewhere in the corner of the city. He zoned out after much of Lucio's rambling, or bleating as he had put it before, but Asra was able to remember the street name at least and typed it into Julian's navigator. He leaned back then, turning down the radio so Julian could hear the little voice through the speaker.

He turned again, leaning outside the window. Asra let the wind play with his hair, sighing deeply as he let his eyes settle into a comfortable close. The summer air smelled nice — even with the usual city smog and exhaust. Asra wondered what it smelled like over in South End, where the forest was close and the heat was heavier. He wondered if Muriel enjoyed the smell of the air as much as he did...

The sun had just about set, the sky a pretty purple faded into a mute pink. Luckily, the thunderstorms had passed, and the sky had begun to twinkle with as many stars the city could logically see. Again, the thought of South End and Muriel crept into his system. The stars must have been better over there — away from the light of the city. Perhaps even better in that spot he'd hoped to take Muriel to.

Hm. It seemed as though he couldn't quite take his mind off of Muriel lately. He really did miss him.

"Julian... can I ask you something?" Asra asked as he leaned up from the window.

"I, uh..." Julian's gaze flickered to Asra, his system churning with a sudden sort of deja vu that he didn't want to remember. Asra didn't often confide in him anymore. As close as they were, after their break up Asra had managed to work with Julian for the following year without telling him anything, confiding in him, or even relying on him. Their workplace banter had been reduced to business-only discussions or Julian's attempts to converse would fail when Asra didn't respond. They'd only been talking properly again for the last six months, and they'd only been getting close again over the last few months.

The soft, almost anxious way that Asra spoke to him reminded him of their drive back from a job in that summer two years ago, a little tipsier than they should have been, laughing about anything, driving dangerously fast, when Asra had fallen quiet and turned the radio down to talk to him in a soft, nervous voice. More anxious than now, and far warmer, but in a voice close enough to how he spoke then. It made his heart stutter.

"Sure," he settled on after a moment too long, his throat feeling dry as the memory resurfaced. He suddenly wished he were in the passenger side so he could get his flask from the glovebox. "Yeah, anything."

Asra frowned, nervously toying with the hem of his shirt, looking out the windshield and onto the street.

"Do you think... do you think people like us could have relationships and actually have them work?"

Several answered crossed his mind. Mostly negative, pessimistic comments that risked ruining the mood entirely and stopping Asra from talking to him for at least the next fifteen minutes, a few unsure. None overly-optimistic.

In his experience? No. In Asra's past experience? No. Not even going into the range of Lucio's attempted relationships- both with people in and out of the mafia. This wasn't just assuming that Asra was referring to romantic relationships. Familial was also a mess, as Julian unwillingly exhibited, and friendships barely seemed to hold up, too.

But that wasn't to say it always failed. That wasn't to say that he couldn't have tried to stay in contact with Portia, regardless of whether or not it would have worked. That wasn't to say that his and Asra's relationship failed solely because of this mafia stuff. That wasn't to say that it was specifically their occupation that would make them undeserving of good, healthy relationships.

But Julian couldn't think of a single way to answer, so he decided to direct the conversation elsewhere.

"Is this about Muriel?"

Was that a stupid thing to ask? Absolutely. Was it going to put Asra in a poor mood or make him defensive? Most likely. Did he ask anyway? Of course he did. He wasn't known for thinking things through before saying or doing them, anyway.

Asra tensed, his heavy lidded eyes snapping open as he turned to look up at Julian."No," he said rather quickly — a sort of knee jerk reaction.

He hesitated a moment, letting the tension ease from his shoulders and leaning back into the seat. Asra chewed on the inside of his cheek, looked out the window, and sighed.

"Yes," he admitted. "I think it is."

Faust turned to look at them, the flick of her tongue almost smug. Asra ignored her, letting his lips quirk up into a gentle smile, eyes idly watching the city go by. "He's nice, Ilya. Cute. Thoughtful. I can't stop thinking about him... but he's a civilian. And I want him to stay a civilian. I don't want him anywhere near Lucio or our job. Do you think I can do that? Be with him but not... get him involved?"

Julian wasn't sure what to think. Asra opening up to him and being honest about this was one thing- a good thing- but that didn't make it any less... irritating to hear. It wasn't quite irritation, anyway, but it was something. Something unpleasant that tugged at his heart, pulling at his chest. It wasn't enough to ruin his mood, it wasn't enough to sway his perspective or to decide to sabotage Asra's chance with Muriel, it was just enough to be noticeable.

A sigh escaped his lips, his brows furrowing.  
"I'm not sure. I'm not going to be nice about it and say that it'll definitely work, but I'm not going to shoot it down instantly just because it hasn't worked for me."

He shifted a little in his seat, keeping his eyes on the road so he didn't have to see Asra's expression after confessing something like that. Or after hearing something like that.

"It might work," he then added after a few moments. "But not without the... basics of a relationship. Honesty, communication, etcetera. So being in this kind of business without him knowing that..."

He trailed off, leaving Asra to fill in the blanks.

Asra nodded a little, his brow furrowed. Like Julian, he chose to keep his eyes on the road — not wanting to look, not wanting to see.

"I know," he muttered. "Lying isn't good, I know. But I... I told Appra the truth. I don't want-" Asra cut himself off, breath stuttering a little in his chest. "You know what I don't want to happen again. Especially not to Muriel."

He leaned forward, clicking off the radio — suddenly not finding himself in the mood for the poppy melodies. Asra, his face a bit blank, turned back to the window. Turned back to the wind.

Asra took a moment or so before speaking again. "He might not even want to have one. A relationship, I mean." His voice, previously having been lower and darker at the mention of Appra, had been nearly set back to normal. "But I'd be okay just being friends with him. As long as I could just see him every now and then."

The silence settled for a few moments. With the absence of music, Julian had to admit that the quiet didn't feel right.   
"You won't know if you don't ask," was all he offered, accompanied by a slight shrug of his shoulders.

The next breath that fell from his lips was a little shuddered with something almost akin to irritation.  
"Shit, could I ask for a cigarette? I've been having a nicotine craving since we got into Lucio's office, but he'd have flipped his shit if I'd been smelling of smoke in there. You know he vapes, right? He was telling me about it like it was something to brag about. He says it's because he can't stand the smell of tobacco. Now I have to make sure I don't smell of it before I go to his office or I get kicked out."

He grinned a little, as if the memory of it was amusing in retrospect. Like the irritation wore off as soon as he was away from Lucio.

"They should be in the glove box," Julian muttered, "I've got some weed in there for you, too. I still don't touch the stuff but since your car got in the shop I figured that I ought to get some for you in case you wanted to smoke."

Asra made a face. "Of course he vapes," he grumbled, leaning forward and opening up the glovebox. Sure enough, a box of Camels and a baggie of weed both were tucked beneath the car manual alongside a few old lighters. Asra plucked up the cigarettes, slipped one out, and lit it for Julian before passing it over. "Isn't he like... forty? I thought vaping was a stupid kid thing."

Julian took the cigarette.  
"Over forty. Like forty-five," he said, putting the cigarette between his lips and taking a long, slow drag of it. A soft sigh escaped his lips. That was all that he'd needed- just something to smoke while he was driving. It definitely helped, soothing his cravings. His shoulders lowered a little.

He picked up the baggie of weed, looking down at it a moment or so. As much as Asra loved the high — the buzz and the numbness of everything at just one breath and a puff of smoke — he found himself hesitant to pop the baggie open. The scent of Julian's cigarette had already begun to stink up the car, even with Julian blowing the smoke out of his own window. Asra watched him, frowning as he flicked his gaze back down to the weed.

"This is no place to get high," he muttered, tossing the baggie back into the glove box. He slipped out one of Julian's cigarettes instead, ignoring the concerned flick of Faust's tongue as he lit it up. Asra hated cigarettes. But something about the weed in Julian's glove box made his stomach turn. "Maybe after the job. To cool down."

He took a drag of the cigarette the same way he would with a blunt — but he instantly found himself regretting it. The taste itched his throat. Asra turned his head and coughed a little, clumsy puffs of smoke leaving his lips through the window. He could hear Julian laughing.

"I don't smoke these cancer sticks," Asra grumbled, looking down at the lit cigarette in his hand with a sneer. "Just didn't want you to feel stupid. Smoking alone."

Julian, still laughing, the cigarette between his forefinger and middle finger in the hand on the wheel, nodded along to Asra's insisting.

"Of course, of course," he said with his crooked grin, his eyebrow cocked. "Feel free to chuck it out if you don't want it, though. I'm not going to make you pay me back for a wasted cigarette."

He set the cigarette between his teeth again, his laughter finally dying down, sighing softly as he closed his lips around the 'cancer stick', taking a long drag of it. He was being as courteous as possible, though, by ensuring that he tilted his head toward the window when he let out a puff of smoke, admiring it as it billowed past his lips and out of window, gone from sight.

 

"How much longer is this drive going to be?" he asked, flicking the indicator to turn right as the automatic sat nav voice told him to.

Asra tried one last drag of his cigarette, but he ended up flicking it out the window as he coughed out his breath of smoke. He nodded, eyes drifting down to the navigator.

"Says about twelve more minutes," he said between coughs, shaking his head a little. Asra leaned back into his chair, a hand up to his throat as though he meant to rub away the itch. "Hell, this is gonna be a great way to blow off steam. After our mess-up from before and... and some stuff with Muriel. Cracking some bones is going to make my head feel so much better."

"God, I hope so," Julian murmured as he took the cigarette from between his lips again, smoke spilling past his lips as he spoke. "There's a lot of shit I'm hoping to distract myself from by doing this. Then I'm going straight to the Rowdy Raven and drinking everything else off."

He pushed a little harder on the gas pedal, learning back in his chair, hoping to cut down those twelve minutes. The cigarette settled between his lips and he took another long drag of it, glad that he at least had this to help him now.  
"Pasha was on the news again," he then added, feeling as if he owed it to tell that to Asra after how honest Asra had been with him. "Some story, an interview or whatever. I wasn't really paying attention to what it was about."

Asra frowned, nodding his head a little.

"She's doing well then?" Asra asked quietly. They had slowed down a bit, the traffic of that part of town growing a little heavier. They were closer by then, though -- the minutes listed at the bottom of the navigator had been winding down the further they rolled down the streets of the city. "Last I heard she was with Nadia, the captain of her precinct? Or wait... no- she's the chief now. We haven't talked in a while."

"She's doing well," he nodded. "She has so many badges, too."

He leaned out the window again, trying to lose the stink of cigarettes. "What was she talking about on the news? Wasn't... wasn't about Appra, was it?"

"I didn't pay attention," Julian reminded him. "Would you like me to say that a third time or should I rephrase it? Perhaps I could just be louder next time." He sighed a little, taking another drag of his cigarette. "I had to change the channel over, anyway.I couldn't watch it for long. Even if I had been listening, I wouldn't have heard what the story was about. Look it up when you get home or something, it's not important to me."

He just wasn't too keen on seeing Portia again, no matter the reason. It was a bitter reminder of what he couldn't have anymore. He hadn't even spoken to Mazelinka in almost a year because of all this mafia business.

"It's just up here," he muttered, eyes flicking from the sat nav to the street ahead of them. "We can get this over with quickly if we try."

Asra, a little thrown by Julian's snappy tone, kept his eyes narrowed as he turned away from Julian and looked out to the building around the corner. It was shabby -- perhaps in the same state Muriel's building had been in -- old and quaint looking. Despite its state, it seemed to be somewhat popular. A group of kids with flashlights passed a basketball back and forth in the parking lot. An old couple sat outside of the building in lawn chairs, watching the cars pass. Some taller man had been walking his dog around the building, a wad of plastic baggies tucked into his back pocket. Asra frowned. The popularity of the building would make it harder to do the job. They'd have to gag the guy so he wouldn't scream too loud.

"I say we go in and hide in plain sight," Asra murmured as Julian parked across the street. "What should the act be if someone asks questions? Family friends? Casually dressed insurance investigators? Local weed dealers?" Asra tapped the glovebox with a teasing smirk. "Your call, Ilya."

"Family friends," he said with a little decisiveness to his tone, already unclipping his seatbelt as he flicked the cigarette out of the window. "Should let us get in without too much questioning, right? We'll claim something about an emergency... or something."

He pushed open the car door and got to his feet, stepping on and snuffing out the cigarette he'd dropped. He pushed the door shut behind him, waiting for Asra, smoothing down his shirt and turning to look up at the building. He didn't want this to last too long. Surely this was a more subtle form of punishment for their mess up the last time; being sent on boring jobs that were supposedly below their paygrade.

Asra sighed, watching him go before opening up his car door and slipping out the side. He felt Faust crawl up his arm, and he lifted his head, narrowing his eyes as he searched for a place she could stay during the job. Perhaps one of the trees would do nicely -- maybe she'd like to watch the kids play. Asra, knowing she could take care of herself, stepped up to one of the decorative trees surrounding the building and draped her over one of the higher branches. She flicked her tongue across his knuckles as a thank you -- Faust was never one to love joining Asra on the job. Blood was hard to wash from her scales. Not to mention that Asra never liked putting her somewhere where she could be in danger.

He turned back to Julian, joining him at the doorway of the apartment building -- looking down at himself and his outfit before pulling the door open. Julian slipped in before him, ducking his head through the doorway, and Asra followed, letting the heavy door slam to a shut behind them.

There was no need to check in at the desk for the room number, Lucio made sure to drill the room into their memory. B19. Second floor, right side of the hall. To put it in Lucio's irritating words, they couldn't miss it.

The two made their way up the elevator, Asra noting Julian's slight frown at the creaking gears and the shudder of the mechanisms as they jolted to a stop. The doors groaned open, and Asra exited, not quite waiting for Julian as he scanned the numbers of each door. He was quick to find B19, stopping beside it and raising a hand to knock -- fist raised and ready as Julian made his way up to Asra's side.

 

Asra knocked when he was sure Julian was ready. Three sturdy raps. There was a lapse of silence... but then there was a call from inside.

"Who is it?"

Asra looked at Julian, eyebrows raising over his head.

"Ah, we're family friends of-..."

Oh God. What was his name? Asra should have been paying a little more attention to Lucio's rambling. Luckily, Julian recognized the look of panic that crossed Asra's features, and spoke out for him.

"Daniel Erigo," he said, making sure to bite back his amused smile at Asra's scramble for words.

"We heard he lives here," Asra continued, sighing a little, flashing Julian a thankful smile. "Decided to pop by."

There was a pause from the person inside. Slow, hesitant creaks from the floorboards grew closer as the man inside stepped up to the door.

"That's me." His voice was wary. Scared. "Who... who are you? I don't talk to my family anymore."

Asra winced, looking up at Julian. "Shoulda gone for insurance investigators," he sighed, lifting a hand and settling it onto the door before them. When Asra spoke again, his voice had risen in volume -- addressing the man inside the room rather than his partner beside him. "I'd stand back if I were you."

A burst of magic poured through his fingertips in the same fashion it always did... only this time, instead of airy magic that whirled tea pots through the air or light, sunny magic that danced over glass cuts and soothed the sting of torn skin, the magic left him in a furious burst. It seeped into the door before him with a fiery glow, winding into the fibers of the wood until the surface became brittle and cracked. All it took was a firm kick from Julian's booted foot to cave the door inwards with nothing but a sad crackle of old, nearly disintegrated wood.

Daniel stood in the hall before them, looking at his demolished door with a look of pure shock as he stumbled backwards. He was short, bearing a dark, matted hair, dark tired eyes, and a dark, fearful sneer. That was all Asra bothered to gather as he stepped inside, dusting himself off of whatever remains had dirtied up his shirt. He offered a grin, cocking his head to the side a little as the man looked him up and down.

"Wh-who are you? What are you doing here? What did you do to my door?"

Asra lifted his shoulders into a half hearted shrug. The man had stumbled back into a messy living room of sorts, scattered with magazines and empty takeout boxes. There was a split off into a kitchen to the left, and to the right there was another hall for bedrooms. A nice sized apartment, for someone tied to a loan shark. The television was on, flicked onto TLC and broadcasting some reality TV show. Asra tried not to grimace at the display, and instead focused back upon the task at hand as he stepped into the man's living room.

"Let's just cut to the chase, shall we?" Asra hummed, still smiling. "My friend and I-" he paused, gesturing to Julian behind him, who'd been stepping over what was left of the man's door, "-we're tired. We had a long day. We're just here for the money you owe Lucio. Sorry about the door but... I mean, it wasn't like you were going to let us in."

Daniel's eyes flashed with fear at Lucio's name. His face paled and his body stiffened, a wash of dreadful realization falling over his features. He nervously licked his lips, eyes darting about the room as if in search for an escape.

"I-I... I've fallen behind but- but it wasn't like I could help it," he said, voice rising in pitch and volume. He took another step backwards, back bumping into the wall. "Please. Just tell him I'll give it all back. I just got down on my luck and... and I don't want to fight you guys but I will."

Asra frowned, his stomach feeling sick at the sight before him. The same way it felt sick at the sight of the weed. He didn't know why, of course. Why his nerves trembled and rose to buzz against his skin. Why his chest tightened and tickled so back he felt as though he needed to claw at it. Of course, Asra never agreed with Lucio's preying on the weak and poor, but he never got anything like cold feet when it came to dealing with them.

Maybe it had been the look in the man's eyes were so similar to Muriel's from the night before.

They were wide, glossy, hopeless. Tired. Perhaps Muriel's personal panic had shifted a gear of sorts. Winded a cog. Flipped a switch. Ignited a flame that would have to be snuffed out... or ignored, at least.

Asra had a job to do. He had money to earn -- money he had already lost from his last emotional screw up. He had a boss he couldn't afford to upset, and a reputation he couldn't afford to lose. Even if his chest tightened even further. Even if that rod of lightning burned at his gut, the electricity crackling up his system. Asra had to ignore it as he raised his hands, and let more magic gather at his fingertips with a threatening glow.

"If you don't have the money, you're going to have to come with us," Asra said, nodding back to Julian, who'd just about stepped up to his side. "Don't make this hard."

Julian, once he'd taken his place beside Asra, slid two silver daggers into his hand from sheaths on his belt, his eyes fixing on Daniel, seeing the anxiousness and the exhaustion reflected in those eyes.

"We don't want to have to fight you on this," he added, as if the comment was something necessary. He couldn't be bothered to get into another fight- he'd already made it clear that he was just waiting for his next chance to get to the Rowdy Raven. "Just comply and it'll be a lot easier on both of us."

But, of course, the vase that came flying at them- the one that Asra, hit with a charged shot of magic-lightning, shattering it and sendings it's fragments about the room- was enough of a refusal that they didn't want for an answer.

"Should've thought on it," Julian muttered, turning to Asra. "Would you like to do the honours?"

Asra sighed deeply, but he nodded his head, side stepping in front of Julian and holding up his bright hands. Daniel grit his teeth, his own balled fists buzzing with a weak magic of his own. Asra studied him a moment or so, noting the scared tremble of his muscles and the panicked glint in his eyes — the same glint one would see in a wild animal cornered by the poacher. He figured drearily he'd been the poacher as he crept forward, eyes narrowed and lips curled into a stoic sort of frown.

The man acted first, as expected. Daniel charged forwards with a shout, both hands extended before him. Asra knew the attack — one touch would spread a burst of painful magic through his body. He could see the energy gathered in Daniel's fingertips. Asra managed to dodge rather artfully, stepping to the side and sweeping his leg beneath the fearful animal who charged him. Daniel stumbled, and when he did, Asra attacked, bursts of electricity snapping from his hand as he flicked his wrist. Binding ropes of lighting curled painfully around Daniel's wrists, charing his skin as they bound his hands behind his back. Asra ignored Daniel's enraged and pained scream, watching his legs buckle. The man fell to his knees, squirming in his magical restraints, whimpering each time the electric crackled up his forearms.

Asra sighed again, making his way up to Daniel's side. "That was easy," he mumbled. Daniel gave a low growl and thrashed, but Asra lifted his foot and slammed it into his ribs — knocking the squirming man down on his side, wheezing and groaning as the magic ate away at the flesh of his wrists. Asra looked up at Julian. "The magic won't last forever. Take out his knees so he can't run. I'll search the place for cash."

Nodding, Julian approached Daniel as he lay, writhing in pain, on the floor.  
"Oh- uh, wouldn't knives be too much for that?" he asked, using the heel of his boot to push Daniel onto his stomach, then digging the heel of his boots into his back. "I should probably use something like a bat... Right?" He sighed a little, glancing about the room-finding a crowbar in the corner.

"Ohoho," he chirped to himself as he began to approach it. "What's this? Why would you have a crowbar in the hall?" he asked, taking it in his gloved fingers and approaching Daniel, who began to squirm away, still whimpering and sweating as his wrists burned, trying to push up. Julian only took half a stride more than before to get to him, though, rolling him over. He struck his knees twice with the crowbar, then putting his foot on the man's back again to keep him down.

He turned to look over at Asra, applying just a little more pressure onto the man beneath him when he began to squirm.  
"Any luck?" he called. "We could just take something, pawn it off? Or just give it to Lucio and let him do whatever he wants? He's got, like, thirty tv's? We could just get him another, 'cause that one looks like it would be most of what's owed."

Asra shook his head from where he stood in the kitchen, his lips curled into a slight frown as he rifled through the drawers and cabinets for stashed cash. He had already turned over all of the cushions of the couch. He'd tipped each table and chair, and he even looked through the fridge, both doors left open, spilling cool air upon the tiled floor of Daniel's kitchen. The only rooms left to check were the bedroom and the bathroom -- but even then Asra didn't think they'd get lucky. 

"Just keep him quiet," Asra grumbled, stepping away from one of the open cabinets. Daniel had been whimpering and groaning quite loudly -- it seemed as though the blows from Julian's crowbars had done the trick. Asra even let the magic restraints fade away, figuring the man would spend his energy writhing about in pain, wallowing in his broken kneecaps. He ignored both Julian and Daniel as he made his way to the hall. "I'm gonna check these last two rooms. If there's no money, there's no money. Lucio can just use whatever the hell else he got from all the other suckers he's leeching off of."

Asra tried not to feel that twinge of regret in his chest. Muriel was one of those 'suckers', wasn't he? He could have easily been the man writhing in pain with two busted knees and a set of burn scars curled around his wrists. What if Asra hadn't helped him with that payment? Would Lucio send him after Muriel too? The thought made Asra's stomach turn as he pulled open the door to the bathroom. He felt sick as he knelt beside the cabinets, trying to force the thought of Muriel from his mind as he pushed around toiletries and soaps in search of anything worth bringing back to Lucio.

The bathroom was empty. The bedroom was no different. Asra went as far as lifting up Daniel's mattress, but all there was had been scattered pocket change and a few bags of weed Asra so guiltily pocketed. He grabbed a pack of Camels from Daniel's nightstand, and started out of the bedroom -- tossing the cigarettes to Julian and watching him awkwardly juggle the pack before grasping it in his hands.

"No money. Just drugs. Let's go." Asra's voice was quiet and impatient. His nerves sizzled beneath his skin. All he could really think about was going home and napping off his new inner turmoil. "We'll drop this guy off for Lucio, you can get your drink on, and I can get my snooze on."

"Sounds good," Julian nodded, getting off of the guy. "You get him. Can't you do that? With your magic and whatever?" He nudged the guy with his foot, sighing. He didn't want to have to pick him up and drag him over to the car, and if Asra could somehow puppeteer the guy over to the car it would be so much more convenient.

Going off of the look Asra gave him, though, he sighed and tucked the cigarettes into his pocket before grabbing the man's upper bicep. He managed, with a bit of effort, to haul the man to his feet and began to drag him to the door, grumbling slightly about how heavy he was. Especially as the man was struggling to walk since Julian had hit him with the crowbar, limping heavily. He began to lead Daniel to the car, not waiting for Asra as he dug about in a few of his pockets for his keys. He glanced about, making sure that the street was clear of ogling citizens he'd have to try and explain himself to, but he luckily managed to pull the door open after a moment and shove their guest inside without any witnesses. The kids were busy playing with Faust by the tree and the adults had all gone inside.

He shut the door and turned back to Asra at the apartment building, learning against his window.  
"Asra?" he called, brows furrowing. "Are you sure you've checked everywhere?"

Asra stepped out of the door to the apartment building, having explained to the man at the desk that Daniel was a family friend who had far too much to drink and skinned his knees -- they were supposedly taking him to the hospital. He nodded his head tiredly, before looking around for Faust so they could leave. She was still curled up about her branch, only now she had an audience of sorts. That group of kids who had been playing ball had all flocked to the snake curled about the tree. Some of them looked wary and scared, but the two in the front had lifted their pudgy fingers to pet her head or her scales. Faust, of course, loved the company. And the attention.

Finally, a genuine smile quirked up Asra's lips. He stepped towards the children and watched for a moment or two before clearing his throat. They all started and turned their heads, eyes going wide. Asra stopped them before scared excuses began to tumble from their lips.

"Thank you for finding my snake," he said, voice warm and kind. "I've been looking for her everywhere."

A girl, the one closest to Faust, let her face light up again. "She's yours?"

A kid from the back stepped forwards, his face red with blush. "What's her name?"

Asra's slight smile curled into a grin. "Yep, she's mine. Her name is Faust," he said, making his way towards the tree. He reached over the heads of the kids, and held out his arm. Faust gave a parting flick of her tongue to the children, kindly booped the girl who'd been petting her, and then began to slither up Asra's arm. All the kids watched intently, wide eyed. Asra was suddenly glad he wasn't the one to escort Daniel from the apartment -- bloodstains would be hard to explain to those five or six kids looking him up and down.

"So she's nice?" the nervous boy asked from the back.

The little girl scoffed before Asra could answer. "Of course she's nice! Didn't you see me pettin' her?" She crossed her arms rather proudly over her chest. "She even kissed my hand!"

Asra laughed a little, holding up his hands as Faust slithered up to his shoulders and draped herself round the back of his neck. "She's very nice. The nicest snake in the whole wide world."

A taller boy, who stood to the side of the brave little girl, piped up. "She's your familiar, ain't she?" he asked, a knowing smirk splayed across his features. "My momma's got one. Her's is a parrot. I want mine to be a shark!"

There was a thrum of murmurs about the group of kids, all talking about their destined familiars. Another girl, one in the back with two tight pigtails, shook her head, reaching forwards to poke the tall boy in the back.

"You can't have a shark!" she claimed. "They're too dangerous. That's like sayin' you want a tiger. Or a wolf. It'll eat your face off."

Asra's smile only got brighter. "Oh, you've got it all wrong," he said quietly, leaning down a little. "Any animal can be a familiar for any magician. See, I have this friend who has a wolf familiar that's almost bigger than me." All of the kids hushed, wide eyed and attentive again as Asra went on. "She's the nicest familiar I've ever met. And her magician is the nicest man I've ever met."

The girl in pigtails nodded her head. "Oh. Oh yeah -- okay." She said, face a little red from her mistake. "Well, in that case, I want a wolf familiar. If I can do magic when I'm older."

Another burst of murmurs hummed from the group, all agreeing that their familiars would be the quote on quote dangerous animals.

"Well, you guys keep discussing on that. I have to get back to work." Asra leaned up, waving his hand. Faust flicked her tongue again. "Faust says thank you for all the attention. She loved it so much."

He turned, laughing a little at the loud chorus of little goodbyes calling out from behind him. Asra made his way up to the car, slipping into the passenger seat and shutting the door behind him. He turned to look out the tinted windows, smiling at the kids who now stared in wonder at Julian's nice car. He turned around in his seat when Julian began to drive away, mood instantly improved by the conversation with the kids and the talk of Muriel and Inanna.

Asra almost forgot about the man groaning in pain in the back seat.

"Looks like someone's gotten popular," remarked Julian as soon as Asra had settled in, hearing him clip in his seatbelt and putting his foot down on the gas pedal, wanting to get out of that neighbourhood as quickly as possible. "I can't tell who they liked more, you or Faust. It's too bad Malak didn't want to come. He would have been popular, a fine thing like him, don't you think? Ah, the kids would have loved him! He can do tricks, too. He says things sometimes, picked up a word or two from living around me and Mazelinka. Not saying that those are, uh, good things that should be said around kids but the point remains."

He took a sharp turn, deeming it safe (well, not totally safe but nobody else would be in danger) to do so without indicating with the total abandonment of the streets during what should have been work hours. There was the sound of something heavy sliding over the chairs in the back seat, accompanied by the soft thunking noise and a groan of Daniel hitting his head on the car door from where he'd been lying.

"He'd love the attention, too. I'd bring him out more if I knew that he'd stay with me, but he's more of a free soul, you know? He likes to do what he wants to do, and if that means that I don't see him for weeks at a time then, uh..." he glanced to Asra, brows furrowing as he turned another corner perhaps a little more sharply than he should have, putting a little more pressure on the gas pedal. "You're good with familiars. That's a bad thing, isn't it? If he just disappears sometimes?"

Asra gave him a playful frown. "I mean, most people like to keep an eye on their familiars," he said, shrugging. Asra lifted his hand up to brush Faust's scales. "You don't want anything to happen to them. That would be..." he trailed off, happy tone faltering a moment. "Well, you've seen the stories."

He leaned back in the car seat, shimmying his shoulders against the leather. "But it's fine if you're familiar wanders off every now and again. Sometimes I leave Faust at home while I'm out. I mean, I did just leave her in a tree while we grabbed this guy." He lifted a hand and jutted his thumb back to the nearly unconscious Daniel. "Speaking of, did you see his familiar? Do you think he has one?"

"He can do magic, so... probably," Julian shrugged, glancing back at the third wheel to their car journey. "I didn't see it before, but you couldn't find it in his apartment. Maybe it's like Malak and his familiar's just wandered off for a bit. No harm in that, right? We can check to see if he's got a rat or... something small? Something small in his pocket that we didn't notice, but I doubt it."

He turned his focus back to the road, shrugging a little. He wasn't too knowledgeable when it came to familiars. He wasn't too experienced with anything magical, really. He'd had Malak as a pet for years before realising he was a familiar, and even then it was only because Asra had pointed out that nobody else could hear what he was saying. He'd just assumed Malak was good at imitating or something. He hadn't given it too much thought up until then. He hadn't even been able to do magic until Asra had pointed out that if he had a familiar he must have been somewhat magical. Even now he couldn't do much.

 

"Let's just get back. Familiar's aren't our problem, and I want to get out of here." He sent Asra another glance, then reached into his pocket and took out the pack of cigarettes Asra had thrown to him earlier, taking one of them out and settling it between his lips while he rummaged around in his pockets for wherever he'd put his lighter.

"Let me do that," Asra said, rolling his eyes. "You're driving."

He reached over and plucked the cigarette from Julian's fingers. With his free hand, he reached down to Julian's pocket, patting at it a moment or so before moving to the other one. He tried to ignore Julian's reddened face and rather obvious clearing of his throat, and rummaged through his other pocket. He slipped out a little red lighter and leaned back in his seat to light it.

"At least roll the window down," he sighed, offering the lit cigarette back to Julian. "Faust says she doesn't like the smell."

"I was about to," Julian defended, flicking the button and letting the window roll down with one hand, the other taking the cigarette and placing it between his lips. He could see the disapproving look Asra was giving him from the corner of his eye, the silent sort of shame for his reckless abandon, but he chose to ignore it. After Asra had so blatantly pat him down, he was hoping for the car to crash.

But they had a job to do, so they had to get back to Lucio's in one piece.


	12. Temporary Bliss

"Do you think he'll like it?"

Muriel's head was cocked, eyes looking the freshly painted Jeep up and down, arms akimbo as he studied his hard work. The bright, eye catching magenta was gone, replaced with a gentler yet vibrant yellow color, the paint sparkling in the light of the setting sun. Muriel had spent all day on it -- he even got to the shop early, determined to get the whole job done that day. Two more coats, and then a clear coat of lacquer later, and Muriel had finally done it. He'd been walking back and forth as the lacquer dried, studying the car for any imperfections or mistakes -- his hair tied back again to keep out of the paint and out of his eyes.

Inanna, who had been relaxing on her blankets and gnawing at her chew toy, lifted her head. She gave a firm nod of her head, before returning eagerly to her toy. It was a shock she hadn't torn it to pieces yet -- Muriel was dreading the moment he'd turn and find its remains strewn about the floor of his shop. She must have been attached to it which was a... a comforting thought, really.

He turned back to the Jeep, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. Muriel had told Asra he'd be done soon -- if he wanted to come over and see he could. Again, the two had been texting back and forth. Mostly details about the car, of course, all of Asra's punctuated with one of those silly emojis he always used. Muriel always wondered how he did it. Not that he ever would use them himself, of course... even if they were kind of cute.

"I think he'll like it," Muriel said, mostly to himself. He made another nervous lap around it -- his 50th check for perfection. "I... I like it. I think."

'Pretty,' Inanna said. Her voice was bored, like she hadn't been paying attention.

Muriel nodded, taking his hand down from his face and patting at his pocket for his phone. "It is," he agreed, blushing a little. It felt good to be proud of it -- of his work. Something warm and bright seemed to be blooming in his chest. Muriel was almost... he was almost excited for Asra to see it. He flipped out his phone, and checked his texts.

Nothing changed. Asra's unanswered text of 'On my way (ᵔᴥᵔ)' still shined from Muriel's screen. Muriel, again, wondered if he was supposed to answer -- and if so, what he should have said. After a moment or so of hesitation, Muriel sighed, flipped his phone closed, and stuffed it back into his pocket. He took another nervous look around at the car to pass the time, and then stopped near the trunk, tucking a loose strand of hair behind his ear.

Why did he feel so... impatient? Eager? Muriel could feel the excitement twist in his chest -- the buzz of it all gathering at his nerves, almost making him feel energized to a point. He looked down at himself, down at his sweaty shirt and his scuffed jeans. Maybe he should have brought some clothes to change into? Muriel gave a slight cringe, and made his way back to the sink -- turning it on to wash his hands and splash his face with some cold water. He hadn't felt that self conscious about his clothing in front of Asra before... so why then? Why did he work hard to get the car grease off of his shirt withs some of that water from the sink? Why did he allow himself to peek into the dulled metal car piece in the corner to make sure his hair looked alright?

Some time during Muriel's confused yet very apparent fussing, the sound of car tires crunched against the parking lot outside. Muriel perked up, eyes widening a little as he turned to see Asra stepping from the back seat of a grey car Muriel hadn't seen before. Asra waved to the driver as they started off -- likely some kind of Uber or Lyft -- and then turned back to the shop, that usual smile on his face. Muriel tried to ignore the slight leap of his heart rate, and brushed that loose strand of hair behind his ear one last time before starting up to the garage door.

Inanna said hi first. She bounded up to him, chew toy still in her mouth, and sniffed at his ankles -- tail wagging behind her. Muriel could hear her happy voice in his head. He tried hard to keep from smiling when he spoke up from the garage door.

"She says she missed you," he sighed in his usual tone. Asra looked nice -- loose, low cut, floral shirt, high waisted shorts, and heart shaped sunglasses pushed up into his snowy-white hair, and in his hand was a picnic basket. Wicker with a floral pattern that almost matched his shirt. Muriel tried to keep from blushing, turning his head to the side. "You got here fast."

"Of course I got here fast, I was missing Inanna," he said, a little smile on his lips- as if he was commenting on Muriel's refusal to admit that he'd missed Asra too. He knelt down, scratching behind her ears and cooing at her, telling her he missed her, he loved her, kissing the top of her head and loving how her tail thumped against the floor whenever he cooed, or if his voice picked up a little, or if he made a kissy noise. Muriel watched with a blushing frown, a slight pout curled onto his lips.

Asra got up after a moment, though, smiling.

"It's good to see that you've still got that toy," he said to her. "I was sure you'd have torn it up by now! I was even going to give you another one, but it'll have to wait." He pet the top of her head before beginning over to Muriel. Faust's tongue was flicking excitedly as she uncoiled a little from around Asra's neck, leaning forward to look at him.

He moved closer to Muriel, leaning up a little and brushing some hair behind his ear yet again. By now it was surely just an excuse to brush his fingertips along Muriel's cheek when he reached up, to do a little tender sort of gesture for him. Muriel was nearly used to it, but with the excitement coiled tightly in his chest like a corkscrew the touch was all the more impactful.  
"Are you ready to go?" Asra asked, setting the picnic basket onto the floor- turning to look at Inanna and warning her to stay away from it. "I've got everything prepared for us. We can go whenever you're ready."

He'd been looking forward to this since Julian had dropped him off back home after their job the night before. Asra had a few jobs to do that morning and afternoon, of course, but that didn't mean he hadn't been checking his phone every opportunity he had for Muriel's text. He would have been there on time but he'd had to pack a picnic basket and go to the supermarket to get whatever else he thought Muriel would like. His picnic basket was much bigger on the inside, too, as the small and conveniently sized basket wouldn't have been able to carry even half of the things he'd wanted to bring. Better to use a little magic to ensure that everything he needed could be pulled from the small basket than to waste time trying to find bags big enough to carry everything he needed.

"I've got the whole evening planned out. Everything already sorted just for us."

Muriel cocked his head, his brow furrowed a moment or two before the memory of Asra's special place by the lake came back to him. He forgot all about it -- in the anticipation of actually seeing Asra, Muriel seemed to have lost track of what they'd actually be doing. He flicked his eyes down to the large basket in his hands, their destined plans clicking in an instant. Muriel felt himself blush again for a reason he couldn't quite come up with, but he nodded his head a little.

"Okay," he said in a quiet mumble, trying his best not to lean into Asra's touch. "Your, uh, car is about done if you want to see it. It's in the shop..."

"It is? Great," Asra said, offering a wide grin as he pulled back, taking a step away from Muriel. He turned to his picnic basket, where Inanna's snout was beginning to burrow into it, and tapped the top of her muzzle a couple of times to convince her to pull away. He wouldn't have minded if there wasn't so much in there. He didn't know what she'd decide that she wanted, and he wanted to ensure that the picnic went as smoothly as possible.

He gestured to the shop, his eyes shining as he looked up at Muriel.  
"Could you show me it? My car, I mean. I want you to do the big reveal, and then we'll take it out. How does that sound? Better my car because then it won't camouflage so we'll be able to find it in the morning." He was grinning like he was just joking, but still he somehow didn't sound like it.

Muriel blinked at the word 'morning', but he decided it would be best to ignore as he nodded his head. He started back to the shop without a word, lifting his hand to wave for Asra to follow. Muriel stepped inside the garage door, and pointed towards Asra's yellow painted car, a bit confused as to why his heart was in his throat. With anticipation, perhaps? He swallowed hard as he awaited Asra's response, shoulders a little tense and face red with worry.

"I said big reveal!" Asra said from behind him, his eyes fixed on Muriel as if he was refusing to look at his car until he got what he wanted. It was childish, yes, but he loved teasing Muriel with even the smallest things.

Eyes wide, Muriel turned back to Asra — who looked at him with a teasing sort of smirk, brow cocked and head tipped forwards. Muriel frowned, his impatience and eagerness for Asra's reaction just growing tighter in his chest.

He lifted both his hands, gestured towards the car, and gave a weak attempt at jazz hands.

"Surprise," he said, voice monotone. "Uh... tada?"

Well, it was going to have to be enough. Asra doubted that he was going to get much else from Muriel, so he lifted his gaze and, satisfied, turned his attention to the car, shining blue in the dim light of the garage. He paused a moment, beginning to walk around it, admiring it. He moved slowly, eyes shining as he studied his previously purple jeep, looking at every corner, every curve, every little feature where he still couldn't believe that he wasn't seeing his beautiful magenta.

 

"It's beautiful," he said, his voice soft, eyes flicking up to Muriel. Muriel felt his anticipated panic finally ease at Asra's awe, a warm, proud sort of feeling blooming in his chest. Asra spoke again. "How much do I owe you again? I'll give you the money in the morning, after our picnic. You don't mind that, do you? I'd need to take out more money if you wanted me to pay for it now."

Asra moved over to Muriel, smiling up at him as he settled his hand on his bicep. "I can't wait to take her out for a spin," he murmured. "Especially with you by my side."

Muriel was distracted by Asra's sweet, soft voice and purred words, he nearly missed Asra's question about payment.

"Owe me...? You don't- no, Asra you don't owe me anything." He shook his head a little, standing up straighter. "I told you that... I told you that you didn't have to pay for this. You gave five-... no... no you gave me a thousand dollars the other day." Muriel took a step back, reaching his hands up to guilty fumble with the hem of his shirt. "The car payment was only supposed to be five hundred or six hundred. You don't have to pay me."

Muriel looked down to the ground, face heating up into a vibrant cast of red blush. His voice was a quiet, apprehensive mumble when he spoke again.

"But you like it? The car, I mean... like do you actually like it or are you just-... I dunno..."

"It looks wonderful," Asra said, giving Muriel's arm a firm squeeze and almost instantly regretting it. He knew Muriel was muscular, that much was obvious, but he'd felt nothing but toned and firm muscles when he squeezed Muriel's bicep and that threw him for just a moment, his face getting indescribably warm. "Seriously," he started up, his voice a little weaker than intended. "It's a perfect paint job. Thank you."

He moved back a pace or so, patting the car door.  
"Where are my keys? And do you want to go anywhere before we go on our picnic or can we go straight out?"

"Oh," Muriel blinked a little, looking over to the table.

Asra's keys sat right next to the tip jar -- their usual spot unless they were safely tucked inside the glove box after closing. He made his way over to the keys and scooped them up in his hand, turning back to the car and unlocking it. The lights flashed as the car unlocked, and Muriel made his way up to Asra's side, offering them and their abundance of key chains to Asra. He watched as Asra, smiling, opened up the driver's seat door and set the basket down beside his seat.

"So, uh, where are we going?" Muriel asked. Inanna had already bounded her way to the backseat doors, her nails clicking on the floor as she danced excitedly beside the car. Muriel started back towards her, looking up to Asra for a nod of approval before opening the door up for her. She took her chew toy, which was still secured between her teeth. "You said something about a lake... right?"

"Don't try guessing!" Asra chirped as he moved around to the drivers side, pulling his door open and settling in his seat. He pulled the door shut, running his fingers over the steering wheel and sighing almost wistfully, a little smile on his lips. He'd missed his car, even if he had only been without it for a little while. He glanced to the passenger side door, where Muriel was just getting in. He didn't want him trying to guess or figure it out. Not because he was worried he'd get it- Asra knew Muriel wouldn't be able to figure it out- but because he didn't want to give much more away. "I'm not telling you anything else."

He waited until the door was shut and Muriel had clipped in his seatbelt before he turned the key in the ignition, the car jolting to life with a loud purr. Still smiling because he was finally back in his favourite car, Asra pressed on the gas pedal and began out of the garage, Faust already coiling back up around the steering wheel as he reached over to roll down the windows- even rolling down one of the back windows so Inanna could poke her head out if she wanted to.

Muriel turned and watched as Asra drove away from the shop, eyes focused on his unlocked and open garage door. He frowned, wondering if he should have asked Asra to stop and let him close up properly -- but they'd already turned the corner, and the shop was nearly out of sight. With a sigh, Muriel turned around properly in the comfortable seat of Asra's Jeep, trying hard to force the slight tangle of worry from his system.

It wasn't like there was any money in the shop, anyways -- he was lucky Asra hadn't pressed on about paying him. Sure, he was going to be down quite a bit of money, especially with the next payment of a thousand dollars looming in his near future, but he didn't want to take it. He didn't want to argue, either.

Asra drove further and further through South End, passing by Muriel's usual course whenever Inanna wanted to go out for her own drives. They even passed by the spot the two had first met, when the very Jeep they sat in had been pulled over and stranded on the side of the road. Muriel thought about saying something -- Inanna even chirped something in his head about it -- but they drove right by. Further and further again until Asra was on the outskirts of Vesuvia itself -- driving along the backroads that formed the boundaries between Vesuvia and the forest that surrounded it.

Muriel leaned back, turning to look out the window. The wind felt nice against his face. Felt nice running through his hair. Twice he thought about reaching up and letting it down out of its ponytail, but twice he decided against it, figuring it would just get even more messed and wild from the wind. The forest air smelled nice and real -- it almost overpowered the sharp scent of paint and lacquer that still tickled at his nose. Muriel could feel his lips quirk into a smile as he watched the grey houses fade into lush, green trees and bushes. As the sounds of bird songs and forest bugs joined the relaxing drone of Asra's purring engine. The worry from his shop being open seemed to slip away as he watched the forest pass, the two of them in a comfortable silence as Asra drove them deeper into the forest.

"It's nice out here." Asra's comment seemed to match Muriel's thoughts, as if he were voicing it for the both of them. "Really nice. I always preferred quieter places, spots where I can be on my own or just... away from some people. I would have lived somewhere out here, or in a quieter bit of town, but I'd still have to get to and from work and if some people from work wanted to come and have a meeting at my house, it would have taken away from the quiet or the peacefulness I would have moved there for. So I just stuck to my apartment and figured that I could come here whenever instead."

He moved one hand from the wheel to gesture as he spoke, as if that would help articulation or emphasis. When he was done, however, he didn't settle it back on the wheel and instead put it on Muriel's thigh. Only a little below his knee, of course, so it wasn't some daringly bold move that was going to make Muriel freeze up, but the gesture was there nonetheless. He didn't even seem to notice that he'd done it for a while, as if it was just some absent-minded gesture, and when he did realise what he'd done he only glanced at Muriel to see if he looked uncomfortable to gauge how to react, whether or not to pull back. Muriel just let his eyes widen, his gaze falling down to Asra's hand and settling there a good moment or so.

Asra kept talking, though, not wanting to let any real tension settle in the air.

"I came here two or three times a week at first. Sometimes, if I'd get proper vacations, I'd just stick a sign on my door at the apartment that told people not to come looking for me, with the date I'd most likely be back, and I'd spend my time out here. Wandering, talking to Faust, just being alone. Properly alone, too. I'd find nice ingredients for potions or whatever else I made, and when I came back I'd be hauling jar after jar of things I'd discovered back to my room. Then work got busier, and life got too difficult, and I'd come back from my trips to an empty home. My escape suddenly wasn't the same, so I didn't go for a while. I think I stopped visiting for about two years- somewhere between two and three."

He sighed, getting back on track. The topic of what happened those years ago was still unthinkable, still putting a damper on his mood. It was going to, of course. Thinking about what happened with Appra would make anyone feel guilty, but he didn't want to dwell on that. He was with Muriel, and this trip was going to be about Muriel.

"I only starting going back a couple of months ago. Cleaned it up, found a nice place with a lake, and started to settle down there. I'm hoping I can start coming here more often again. Work should be more simple now."

Muriel listened to him, brow furrowed. The hand on his thigh was still there, of course, but he didn't feel it as presently when Asra spoke to him. That, or it just felt... natural there. As if Asra's fleeting yet intimate touches were finally growing on him somehow. He was leaned back in his seat, eyes having flicked up to Asra, focused on him as he spoke. When he was done, Muriel looked away however, not wanting Asra to see just how soft his gaze had gotten.

"That's good... that you have a place, I mean," Muriel said, nodding his head. "I'm... thank you. For, uh, sharing it with me."

He decided not to ask why Asra would ever share such a thing with him, and instead sat up a little straighter in his seat, turning to look out the window again. Muriel watched the trees go by, Asra's hand still on his leg. It took a good moment or so for the silence to get a bit uncomfortable, Muriel's awkward thanks still hanging in the empty air. He cleared his throat to cut it off, still turned towards the window as he spoke.

"Your job... is it hard?" Muriel asked. He knew it probably wasn't the best conversation starter -- especially with Asra's dodging of his actual job all together -- but it was the first thing to come to mind. "Your hours seem... okay."

Asra glanced to Muriel, seeming to figure out that he was trying to approach the topic with caution. It made a little smile tug onto his lips, just how Muriel respected that he didn't want to talk about it, but that was quickly wiped out with his own reluctance to think of work. Nonetheless, he noted the effort Muriel made to continue the conversation and went with it.

"My work is alright," he said, shrugging a little. "I make up my own hours. I shouldn't, really. Most people have set hours or schedules and I should have my own but my boss knows how important I am." His grip on the wheel tightened ever so slightly speaking of Lucio in Muriel's presence. Even if Muriel wouldn't know that that was who he was on about. "He tries not to make it too clear, but I could not show up for days and he would give me a slap on the wrist compared to, say, Julian. The work isn't too hard, anyway. Once you get used to it it's... mundane, in some way. A lot of people wouldn't agree with that sentiment but that's how it is for me."

He glanced over to Muriel, flicking his indicator before taking a turn down a worn path that led deeper into the forest. He slowed down from there, his hand settling a little higher up Muriel's leg as they travelled down the bumpier, worn dirt road. Few people travelled down here, this path had mostly been worn down by Asra's repetitive driving. It was the only thing that risked giving away his hideout to anyone else, and even then he didn't think anyone would come down this way.

He sighed, sinking back into his seat a little, the open windows letting in that fresh air. There was nothing like getting away from everything, just for a little while. He'd be able to get away with living out here if he wanted to, but he knew that his connections to Lucio made it too risky for him to consider that anytime soon.

"We're almost ready to get out of the car. Then it'll only be about fifteen minutes of walking. You're fine with that, aren't you?"

Muriel blinked, his eyes previously focused on Asra's hand -- the touch like electricity against his thigh the moment Asra had moved it up further. So much for it feeling natural. He looked up, face a little redder than before, and nodded.

"Yeah," he said, voice a little quiet. "It's fine. I like the, uh, forest-" Muriel cut himself off, cleaning his throat again and shaking his head. "It's fine."

He pretended he couldn't feel Asra's smile as he turned back to the window. He also pretended he couldn't feel his hand.

Asra parked somewhere deep into the path, pulled up beneath the trees and beside an old, decrepit sort of bench — it's wood chipping and covered in white, dew-speckled spider webs. Asra took his hand off of Muriel's leg, and he could finally breathe, face still red as he reached for his seatbelt and popped open the door. Collections of twigs and sticks crunched beneath Muriel's boots as he made his way towards the back door, opening up for the excited Inanna. He watched her leap to the ground, and happily run towards the nearest tree to sniff and explore. Her chew toy was left in the seat from her excitement — Muriel made sure to pick it up and put it into his pocket for safekeeping.

He turned to see Asra shutting his own door, that basket in his hands as he made his way around the car. Muriel studied it a moment, frowning. It looked heavy... not that Asra seemed to be struggling, of course — it just looked as though it had been full. Muriel held out his hand, flicking his eyes to the ground.

"Do you want me to carry that?" he asked in a gruff sort of tone. "I mean, if it's heavy."

Asra had just been walking around the car, the basket in one hand and Faust curled up around the other. He had no messages coming through on his phone, thankfully, not sure if he'd get called into work or not even if he had explicitly texted Lucio and Julian saying to leave him alone. Content that he wouldn't be disturbed, and that it would just be him and Muriel, he'd begun down the all too familiar path between trees, with no indicators as to which way was the right way except Asra's own knowledge and awareness of the path. That was when Muriel caught his attention. He'd been trying to figure out the quickest way to get to where he needed to be, but was happy to be pulled by his thoughts by Muriel's concerned voice.

"It is heavy," Asra said, as if to entertain the idea of giving Muriel the basket. "It might be too heavy for you, but you can try to hold it." He held out his hand, the picnic basket still firmly in his grip, a little smile on his lips as if he was daring Muriel to try to carry it, as if it was some kind of a challenge. As if he knew Muriel wouldn't be able to support the weight of the picnic basket, even if it was small and didn't seem like it could carry much.

Still, though, he offered it to Muriel, Faust curling up around his wrist on the hand that held the basket and looking up at Muriel with her eyes shining. Inviting him to try.

Muriel furrowed his brow, but he shrugged his shoulders a little reaching out to take the basket from Asra. The second Muriel had it in his hand and Asra had pulled away, he almost let it slip from his grasp and drop to the ground. It was heavy. His arm muscles flexed, Muriel's eyes going wide as he lifted it up. It was rare he'd struggle to lift anything. He brought his other hand to the handle of the basket and lifted, frowning as he looked up to Asra.

"What's even in this?" he grunted. Muriel gave a bitter sigh of defeat, and leaned over, setting the basket down on the ground and standing up straight to rub his hands a little. They were still wrapped in bandages -- the sudden weight felt a little sharp against his cuts. He looked up at Asra and cocked his head. "How did you carry that?"

Asra laughed a little, flicking his wrist and letting the basket lift off of the floor, settling in the air at about hip height, allowing him to take it. His arm glowed for a moment, as if he channeled his magic into it, and he began to walk with the basket in hand.  
"A magician's trick," he said, winking at Muriel. "And a magician never reveals his secrets."

He began through the woods, calling for Muriel to follow him- but stay close- as he began through the forest, following no set path, simply his intuition. He was careful, though, as now that he was leading Inanna he had to flick out his wrist and set a bridge over a border of nettles he usually used magic to get through without hurting himself. He stepped aside, his other hand glowing as he made sure the bridge would be strong enough- first to support Muriel's weight, and then Inanna's, followed shortly by his own. He didn't struggle with keeping it up, which was lucky as he was currently maintaining some level of energy in the arm carrying his picnic basket and with the basket itself, making sure that it could still carry everything he willed it to.

From there, though, it was a straightforward and direct path to the lake. It was getting to be early evening by then, the sun low over the trees- though that just meant that they'd be less likely to have the sun shining in their eyes. He preferred this place at night, anyway. He'd already set up magic-fuelled fairy lights around the tree trunks for when it got dark, and he knew exactly what he wanted to do to impress Muriel in their limited time together.

He wanted to ensure that Muriel had the best time he could have.

Muriel was already impressed enough by Asra's bridge. He stood close to Asra as they walked, keeping his eyes on the scenery, however -- his gaze soft as it trailed along the sides of the path and the shadows of the trees that cut between the setting sun. The air was fresh, clean and warm. Sharp with the scent of the nearby lake, carried by the easy breeze that felt nice against the heat of the summer. It was that time of day where the bugs seemed to chittle their loudest, their sound was loud and ambient in the behind the crunch of their footsteps.

Inanna seemed just as at home as Muriel did as she trotted through the forest, a few feet ahead of them as she sniffled along the trail. She danced excitedly along the path, her tail wagging behind her each time she lifted her head to look at Muriel, tongue lolling out the side of her mouth. Muriel couldn't help but smile as they walked, his hands in his pants pockets, his posture relaxed and comfortable as he nearly strolled through the forest beside Asra.

It was only a matter of time before they made their way to an opening in the path -- a clearing of sorts. Inanna, of course, bounded ahead, but Muriel waited for Asra despite his eagerness to see. They stepped out of the canopy and into an open space. The trail opened up into a crescent sort of space, curled round a piece of the lake. Green grass made its way towards the shore, before fading out into the sandy shoreline. An old wooden dock made its way out into deeper waters for fishing or launching a small boat into the lake.

The lake itself was something of a beauty. The shadows of the trees that sat along the skyline danced across its surface, along with the cream orange glow of the setting sun. Muriel's eyes widened, growing round as he stepped into the clearing, his smile quirking a little wider as the breeze skimmed off of the lake and met the land with a gust of cool air. He could have stood there for awhile if he didn't hear the splash of water by the shoreline.

"Inanna, don't-... ugh..."

 

Inanna had already soaked herself, rolling around about the lake water and sniffing around the shallows. She trotted out from the lake and shook herself off, earning a grimace from Muriel as he stepped back, dodging the specks of water that flew from her coat. Muriel frowned, rolling his eyes a little as he turned back to face Asra.

"I'll make sure she's dry before she gets in your car," he said, shaking his head a little. "Sorry -- she doesn't get to go out much anymore."

"It's no problem," Asra promised, having been too focused on looking at Muriel's awed face and the unfamiliar shine in Muriel's eyes to care about Inanna splashing about. He'd never shared this place with anyone- not Appra, not Julian- and he'd been unsure about whether or not taking Muriel would sully the special place he'd cultivated for himself.

But seeing that shine in his eyes, the lack of tension in his posture, how comfortable he suddenly was being here- it seemed perfect. Bringing Muriel here seemed like the perfect choice.

He turned to look at Inanna finally, her fur sticking together, soaked with lakewater, and he couldn't help but grin. He knelt down to her height, cooing at her, chirping out soft praise and promises that he'd take her out more often, holding out his hands once he'd set the basket down. Warm blasts of air swelled up around his hands and began to blast at Inanna, working like an ultra-powerful hairdryer. She seemed to love it, barking, her tail wagging excitedly as she jumped about, in and out of range of the warmth. When Asra finally stopped, the fur around her head and neck had begun to fluff up, making it safe for Asra to scratch behind her ears without soaking his hands.

He glanced up at Muriel.  
"I'll be able to get her dry before we get back anyway, so she can enjoy herself."

 

He got to his feet again, gesturing over to the docks.

"That's where we'll be eating," he said, scooping up the basket once more to set down a safe distance away from the edge, not wanting Inanna to be a little too clumsy or slip over her own wet paws and go tumbling into the water. "Come on!" he called to Muriel, opening the basket and taking out a beautiful blanket- a silken sort of blanket made with all kinds of colours, embroidered with a variety of threads to give a gorgeous pattern- and lay it down over the docks. He kicked off his shoes, setting them aside before sitting on the left side of the blanket, leaving enough room for Muriel to sit comfortably, waiting for the company.

This place had already grown accustomed to Muriel being here, it seemed. It welcomed him. The birds seemed to sing a little louder, the wind rustling through the trees a little softer, as if to invite him. Even the docks seemed sturdier beneath his feet, ready to support Muriel's weight. The environment welcomed him, accepted him. It seemed almost as if this was where Muriel was meant to be, not cooped up in some mechanic shop in South End.

Muriel stepped cautiously along the dock, afraid the boards wouldn't support him -- but he made it to Asra without falling through into the lake, so he figured it was sturdy enough. He sank down to sit beside Asra, keeping his shoes on. The water sloshed against the wooden pillars of the docks below them, the sound peaceful and relaxing. Muriel listened to it as he leaned back, turning to watch Asra unload that magical picnic basket of his.

"What did you bring?" he asked, cocking his head. Muriel brought a hand up to his hair and slipped the band from his ponytail, letting it fall down about his shoulders. He slipped the band up his wrist, sweeping his hair back behind his ear.

"What didn't I bring?" Asra asked, offering a smile as he reached into the basket. He took out a couple of blankets first, setting them aside even though the basket only looked like it could hold three or four blankets and, including the picnic blanket, that seemed to be the max capacity of the bag. But Asra reached in again and took out two plates, setting one in front of him and one in front of Muriel. After that came a tin of dog food and two dog bowls which were set aside for Inanna, followed by a few bottles of water and a bottle of some expensive whiskey that, again, Lucio had probably gotten for him. All he knew was that that would mean it was good.

He took out a couple glasses after that, setting them down by the whiskey bottle and then pulling out some fruit juice to set aside. After that came the food- a tray of mini sandwiches first, a nice variety of fillings and bread, then a bowl with some fruit, a salad in another bowl, and an abundance of snack food. Chips, dips, several packets of different candies that Asra had picked up, and some other foods picked up in the market that Asra had been keeping warm. Blue-tongued skink was Asra's favourite to eat, and admittedly quite rare to find, so he'd been lucky finding it at a stall in the market. Next to come out was a small plate of smoked eel wrapped in foil, followed with other delicacies only found in the smaller corners of inner Vesuvia.

And, of course, some pumpkin bread from the baker. Still, though, Asra reached into the basket and dug around, taking out some cutlery to set between their plates. And, finally, a forget-me-not that had somehow not been squished in his bag. He picked it up and set it behind Muriel's ear, then pushing the basket back a little.

"How's this for a feast?"

Muriel's eyes widened a little bit, his hand reaching up to delicately brush the petals of the flower Asra had tucked behind his ear. Forget-me-not. Muriel has a few pressed ones in his apartment... at least he did before that man robbed him. That one behind his ear would be a great way to start a new collection, he supposed, letting his hand fall to his side.

"I guess that's why the bag was so heavy..." he murmured, leaning forwards a little bit more to look at the foil of eel Asra had been unwrapping. Ah. That was his favorite. Ever since he was a kid — the memory of the delectable delicacy made his stomach twist with a nostalgic hunger.

Muriel pointed to it, a slight smile quirking up his lips. "I used to like those," he said quietly. "I'd steal them when I lived by the market-..." Muriel blushed at Asra's high brow. "Not that I, uh, steal often but... I was a kid and I was living on the street... other kids actually stole them for me to get me to do what they wanted I didn't usually-" He cut himself off, shaking his head a little. "Whatever. I like them."

Asra smiled a little, pushing the plate over to Muriel, allowing him to take as many of them as he wanted.  
"You don't need to steal to have these," he said, winking at Muriel. "Legally acquired smoked eel."

He picked up his knife and fork and began to take selections of the food from the plates he'd set out, piling up his own plate with as much food as he could, with as much as he wanted. His eyes fixed on Muriel every few moments and he made sure to leave more than enough for anything Muriel wanted to try. He poured some water for himself, then some for Muriel.  
"We should save the whiskey for later," he said, a little smile tugged onto his lips. "I think it's a little too early to drink too much."

He reached behind him, stuffing a couple of the blankets back into the basket, figuring that they could stay in there until they needed to set up for bed. Provided that Muriel was willing to sleep here with him, anyway. He'd figure it out based on how much Muriel drank with him, because he already knew he'd be in no state to drive by the end of the evening.

Muriel nodded, already having dug into the foil for some eel. He sat back when he picked a nice piece, eagerly taking a bite. Muriel smiled the second the taste met his tongue, his eyes settling to a comfortable close as he continued to eat. Inanna came padding upon the dock, sniffling curiously at Muriel's hand. He sighed a little and begrudgingly offered her a piece. She took it happily, and then started towards the bowls Asra had brought along. Muriel watched her, still smiling as he finished his piece of eel and reached for another.

They ate mostly in silence. A nice one, of course. It wasn't so heavy with the sound of the water below them. The bugs and frogs and even the occasional song of bird also drifted across the lake and the shore. Muriel turned to look across the forest canopy before turning away from the shadowed trees and out towards the lake. Of course, every now and again, Asra would say something and they'd get to talking, but then they'd return to their feast and go quiet again — letting nature take over with the white noise.

The sun had just about set, all that was left were the bright flashes of orange skimming their ways across the ripples of the water. Muriel watched them disappear, the world around them getting darker and darker. Luckily, those magical fairy lights Asra had seemed to twinkle to life the moment the last streak of orange faded from sight — bathing the scene in a gentle yellow glow.

Muriel didn't drink too much. Whiskey wasn't really his thing — it burned his throat too much. Asra, however, started sipping back glasses about halfway through dinner. He had about three by the time the sun had set, Muriel with only a responsible one and a half. Muriel drank out of politeness alone... but he couldn't deny he liked the slight fuzz of his chest and his head. The thought of his unlocked shop had left his system completely by then.

The eel was about gone, as were Asra's skink and the chips. All that was left were those candies — chocolates Muriel let himself enjoy as he listened to the lake around them. Again, they had lapsed into quiet, Asra petting Inanna as he finished off the last of his skink. Muriel let his eyes drift over to him every now and again, watching the way his curled bangs brushed over his forehead in the breeze, or the way those lights twinkled in his amethyst eyes. There was one time where Muriel caught himself staring a little too long, his head cocked and his eyes heavy lidded. He turned away, hoping Asra didn't notice, but cleared his throat as he did so — leaning up a little straighter on the blanket.

"Thanks for this," he said quietly, reaching a hand up to tuck his hair behind his ear.

"It never felt right to share this place with anyone," Asra said, his voice a little less coordinated than usual due to his intoxication, but spoken softly, from the heart. "I always thought about bringing people here and decided that it wasn't quite right. Maybe I was... worried... or I thought that the wrong person could ruin this place..."

His eyes drifted across the surface of the lake, flicking over to Muriel for a moment- before his cheeks grew red and he averted his eyes. He was only a little tipsy, but that didn't stop him from knocking back the rest of his glass (regrettably, as he didn't manage to play off his coughing as effortlessly as desired) to try and soothe his racing mind, his overwhelming thoughts.

"With you... it's... it feels right. I don't know how, or... it just feels right. It just fits."

He picked up the bottle of whiskey and poured himself another glass, bringing it to his lips. He took a few sips, bringing his knees to his chest. A soft sigh escaped him, part of him wanting to lean into Muriel, to rest his head on Muriel's shoulder, to wrap one of Muriel's big arms around him and stay pressed up against his side for as long as he wanted, to stay here in the late summer evening, where it was just cool enough for the alcohol to keep him warm, where the rustling of trees drowned out the remaining chittering of birds.

But he didn't. He almost did- he caught himself swaying toward Muriel, he caught himself just beginning to shuffle over, only interrupted by Faust chirping in his mind.  
'Swim!' she cried, curling up around Asra's wrist, distracting him. He frowned.  
"Swim?" he repeated. "Are you sure? You'd better not get lost," he said, leaning down toward the water and extending his hand. He allowed Faust to uncurl from around his wrist and into the water, disappearing beneath the surface after just a moment. "Don't be gone too long! Come back over here every so often so I know that you're okay!"

Her head lifted from above the water. 'Okay! Promise!' she'd cheered, looking over at Asra, and he'd watched her go. An idea came into his head, though, probably one of the best he'd had all evening.

"I'm going to go skinny dipping," he said to Muriel, a little smile curled onto his lips. He'd not had too much to drink, but the buzz of his skin would surely be enough to keep him warm in the cool lake. "Do you want to join me?"

Muriel blinked, looking at Asra with a cocked brow. "Skinny-... skinny what?" he asked. He turned to watched Faust glide through the surface of the water, happily making her way around the wooden pillars that held up the docks. "Is that like swimming? I... I don't swim." Muriel looked back to Asra, frowning. "You can go. I don't... like water."

He didn't like water, that was for sure. Muriel hated it so much he never let himself learn how to swim. Even when he was a kid he was wary of it. The discomfort only grew stronger as he grew older, and then morphed into a sort of hot fear after that night in the Palace with Lucio that he forced himself to repress and forget. He supposed water was fine to listen to and watch, perhaps alright enough to stick his feet in from time to time — but never for swimming.

Never for going beneath the surface. Never again. Not after that night with Lucio.

"I'll just watch," Muriel said, nodding his head. He pulled his knees up to his chest. "You can go... skinny dipping. Whatever that means."

Asra offered a soft smile, getting to his feet.  
"Alright," he said, not minding Muriel's wariness of water. With the amount of people he knew that had undergone some level of water-themed torture or trauma, it wasn't really a surprise that Muriel didn't want to swim. He assumed it was just some preference, not thinking enough to associate it with anything more severe.

He threw his shirt down onto the deck behind him, taking off a couple necklaces and his bracelets, then a couple of rings, leaving them in the picnic basket to avoid losing them. Finally, he began to unbuckle his belt and kicked off his pants, leaving them near enough to his shirt to figure he'd be able to find them easily when he got out.

"My offer still stands," he said to Muriel as he got to the edge of the docks, deciding to keep his boxers on for Muriel's sake.

The moment Asra began slipping off his shirt, Muriel had looked away, eyes wide, face red. He only peeked back when Asra addressed him — trailing his eyes up Asra's bare legs, up his bare torso, and then to his smirking features. His heart was nearly in his throat when he croaked out his flustered answer.

"I'm okay," he said, clearing his throat. Muriel looked down to the wood of the docks again, trying hard to keep from flicking his gaze back up to Asra's nearly naked body. His face was bright with shame at the impulse.

"Alright," Asra shrugged, stretching his arms above his head, embracing the chill that wrapped around his body as the coolness of the air hit his exposed skin. "Suit yourself."

He'd already gone skinny dipping enough before- with Julian countless times, occasionally with Appra- so he didn't have any problems with undressing. It was mostly his awareness of Muriel and his inevitable discomfort around being in the same situation. He wouldn't want to risk making him uncomfortable while they were having such a perfect evening. Without waiting for an answer, though, he dove into the water. He'd swum here more than enough times to know that the water was deep enough for him to dive into from any point, anyway, so even with his slightly drunk clumsiness he knew he'd be safe enough.

Muriel couldn't help but lean up and watch Asra as he dove beneath the surface of the dark water. He crawled to the edge of the docks, looking out into the ripples from Asra's jump, scanning the waters for the tell tale white of Asra's hair. For a few worrying moments, there was nothing but the aftermath of Asra's splash — Muriel's paranoid system told him he would have to get over his fear and dive in to save Asra from drowning. Luckily, a few moments of Muriel's tight anxiety later, Asra resurfaced with a gasp of air, eyes bright as he treaded water. Muriel sighed, letting his shoulders slump and his body relax.

He leaned up, shifting his legs so they'd been pulled up to his chest again. Muriel was at the edge of the docks, sat cautiously as he watched Asra go under again. Inanna sat beside him, tail thumping on the wood of the docks as she tiredly curled up into a circle beside him.

The next time Asra resurfaced, Muriel noted the slight chatter of Asra's teeth.

"Is it cold?" Muriel asked, leaning forwards a little more.

"A little!" Asra called, currently a couple metres away from Muriel, though he soon dove under the water again, swimming nearer the surface of the water this time so Muriel could see the water rippling as he neared the docs, resurfacing confidently. He gripped onto the dock, pulling himself up and hooking his arms onto it, resting there. It was only hanging a little above the water, but it was far enough for him to need to use a little effort while hauling himself up. "It's nice, though."

He moved one hand to pet Inanna, scratching under her chin as she lay there.

"She's already all tired out?" he asked, laughing softly, moving closer and still kicking his legs in the water to keep them warm, keep his blood flowing so he wouldn't suddenly get too exposed to all the cold. The cool air was already sending a chill up his arms and across his chest, where droplets of water would drip from his hair and onto his shoulders, running along his chest and steadily into the water. "I'll have to take you two out more often, she should be getting out more. Not least you, of course."

He pushed up a little more, closer to Muriel, his arms straightened out beneath him. He pushed further out of the water, rippling waves lapping at his thighs now instead of his back.

"You sure you don't want to come in?" he asked, learning a little closer, his voice quieter now though. He was asking more to invite Muriel to be closer to him, to join him, not to try and tempt him into the water. "It's nice. It'd be nicer with you."

Muriel absently leaned closer, shifting so he sat on his knees rather than having them pulled to his chest. He guiltily flicked his eyes off to the side, lips curled into a gentle frown. He nodded his head a little, brow furrowing before he spoke.

"I'm sure," he said quietly. "I... I don't really know how to swim." Muriel's face flushed a little more. "Which is... stupid. I'm sorry."

Asra moved one hand, still dripping slightly with lakewater, and brushed some of Muriel's hair from his face.  
"It's not stupid," he said, his voice softer now, more affectionate. Careful. Perhaps even bordering loving. "I'll get out in a minute, I just haven't been out here in so long, much less out swimming, and I feel safer swimming out here with you than I would if I were swimming alone."

He leant closer, his hand gently settling on Muriel's cheek, cupping it. His thumb once more began to run along his cheek, stroking his face, his eyes soft and round as they studied Muriel's face. He might have just had too much to drink, but he couldn't recall a time where Muriel had ever looked as beautiful as this, in the soft glow of the fairy lights, with that flower still tucked into his hair, and with the slight redness of embarrassment curled up onto his cheeks.

"Thank you for coming out here with me," he said softly, his voice quieter now, warmer, more endearing. As if Muriel needed to be spoken to with such softness, such sweetness. Such caution. "This place is... it feels perfect with you here."

Muriel's chest flushed with warmth. He swallowed hard, but he leaned into every single one of Asra's touches. Leaned into his hand when it chipped his face. His heart was beating hard against his rib cage... but he couldn't tell why. Why his nerves all buzzed and why excited electricity seemed to crackle through his system the closer he leaned forward.

Asra's hair was wet and slicked back, his skin glistening beneath the twinkle of the fairy lights. His eyes were staring up with a gentleness Muriel didn't quite understand, the color of his eyes suddenly magnificent in the shadows of night. Deep purple, hinted blue, twinkling as they looked up into Muriel's own tired eyes. He wanted to see them better. To lean closer and study them... perhaps next he'd study how soft Asra's skin had been beneath his calloused fingers. Muriel's ears had gone pink at the very thought, but he did lean a little closer — forgetting about the dark ripples of water beneath him and the docks as he dangerously shifted his weight forward.

"Most... most places just feel perfect when you're around," he admitted in a murmur. "For me at least."

The words settled in the air for a few moments, Asra's eyes widening ever so slightly at such a tender sort of confession, at something said so softly and so delicately. It was sincere, private, quiet, something that Asra hadn't expected Muriel to confess to. He didn't think that Muriel would ever think so dearly of him. Asra was acutely aware of his own feelings, as reluctant as he was to embrace them, and if he wasn't getting a little too optimistic, a little too hopeful...

Maybe it was mutual.

He didn't respond, afraid that the wrong word would sabotage the temporary sort of bliss they'd made for themselves, as if he could compromise the safety of their sanctuary. Instead, relying a little too heavily on his intoxication to guide him on how to behave, he began to lean closer, moving toward Muriel a little more, his eyes flicking from Muriel's green eyes to his lips before he closed his eyes, trusting intuition. He didn't even know how he was feeling. Optimistic, perhaps. Trusting. If love made him stupid, then he must have been an idiot.

Muriel didn't know what Asra was doing. And then... and then he didn't know what he was doing. His breath left him in a stuttering sort of sigh, his heart fluttering in his chest as he settled his own eyes closed and began to lean forwards. His pulse was beating so loud in his ears, he couldn't hear the groaning creak of the board beneath his palm. Even if he could, he probably wouldn't have stopped. Muriel just pushed forwards, confused but... comfortable.

Comfortable.

And then a few things happened at once.

Their noses brushed, the delicate touch causing Muriel's whole body go warm. Then there was a loud creak and a splintering snap somewhere beneath Muriel's hands — beneath his palms, the only things keeping him from tumbling forwards into the lake. Then, Muriel felt himself slip forwards, eyes snapping open as he felt his weight and balance shift dramatically forwards.

He only had a chance to let out a strangled sort of gasp before the world turned over. The dark water was bitter and frigid — it hit Muriel in an instant, the shock leaping through his system like a flash of lightning. Muriel's common thought left him. One moment it was dark and he was cold and his chest had gone dreadfully tight, and the next he had somehow resurfaced, blindly groping back for the docks as he gasped for air.

Muriel's hand met one of the old wooden pillars that held up the dock, and he tugged himself towards it, hugging it close to his chest and holding it tight. His chest was heaving, eyes snapping shut as he pressed himself up against the pillar. He didn't know if he could touch the bottom of the lake, and he didn't really want to find out — his legs curled up around the wooden post.

The water lapped up to his chest, and cool droplets slipped down the back of his neck and across his face. His teeth were already chattering, his body trembling. And it wasn't because of the cold. Muriel squeezed the pillar so tight it was as if he meant to break it with his arms, his cheek pressed against the chipped wood of the pillar.

A strangled whimper escaped past his gritted teeth. "Asra?" His voice was panicked. He didn't open his eyes. "Asra?"

"I'm right here," Asra's voice came, soft and level, a striking compromise to the fear that gripped Muriel's words, making each word tense and tremulous. "I'm right here, Muriel, you're okay."

He could see the fear that made Muriel tremble, the tremor that ran through his body, the way that the cold water and the fear made him shiver. He swam a little closer, hooking one arm around the wooden post and letting his other hand settle on Muriel's cheek.

"You're okay, Muriel. Trust me. I wouldn't let anything happen to you. We're not far from the bank and I can get you out but you need to open your eyes and I need you to hold onto me, okay? That means letting go of the post."

He wasn't sure what made his voice so level. The icy water had shocked him as much as it had initially shocked Muriel, and he definitely hated how their moment had been interrupted, but perhaps if Muriel wasn't there to keep him company and keep him in check, he'd be more shocked and upset. His instinct to look after Muriel took over his own concern for himself. He moved a little closer, brushing hair from Muriel's face cautiously.  
"Can you do that? Do you think you can manage to let go? It's okay if you can't, I'll figure something else out, but if you trust me here I can get you out of the water."

Muriel started to shake his head no, his bandaged fingers digging into the wooden post. How could he let go? Asra couldn't hold him. There was no way he'd be able to keep his head above water, and one time was more than enough for him. He didn't want to let go. He certainly didn't want to open his eyes. Asra was giving him a choice — and Muriel was making it.

But then... but then Muriel really realized Asra had been giving him a choice. Really realized. No one had really ever done that for him — given him a choice. It was always sharp orders and harsh commands. 'Do this, Scourge. Do that. Listen to me.' Asra, however, spoke quietly. Softly. Asked him gently to look at him, to let go. To trust him...

Trust him.

Muriel fluttered open his eyes, pupils constricted as he flicked his gaze to Asra who swam beside him. His breath came out in shaky gasps and pants, his throat clicking when he swallowed.

"I don't want to go under..." he said weakly. "I-... I really don't want to go under again."

"You won't," Asra assured him, speaking firmly but still keeping his voice quiet enough to avoid jarring Muriel. He was careful, walking a fine line, ensuring that he would keep Muriel safe, building that trust, making sure Muriel knew to trust him. "I won't let anything happen to you, trust me. If you really don't want to let go, I'll find another way, but if you want to get out of the water quickly, if you want to be back on the grass as soon as possible, then hold onto me. I'll get you there."

He kept his eyes locked with Muriel, seeing his gaze flitting this way and that, seeing how scared he truly was. Looking into his eyes like that was like a glimpse into the fear that resided in his hollow chest, in his knotted stomach, but Asra wasn't going to risk Muriel's safety by getting caught up on it and getting distracted. Instead, he kept his eyes locked with Muriel's as he brushed his hair from his face.

 

"Deep breaths," he was still monitoring his voice as carefully as he could. "You don't have to rush to do this. Just settle one hand on my shoulder as slowly as you'd like. You only need to move about a meter and you'll definitely be able to stand up. I can stand up there, so you'll be perfectly fine."

And now he was just waiting, hoping desperately that Muriel would trust him.

Muriel furrowed his brow, and looked back to the post he clung to so desperately, lips curled into a hesitant frown. There were a few moments of nothing but the sounds of lake water, but those moments passed, and Muriel's grip relaxed a bit. One arm still wrapped securely around the post, Muriel began to reach the other one out towards Asra, trembling fingers settling on Asra's shoulder. He didn't let himself grab on or curl his fingers — he just rested his hand atop of Asra's shoulder. He kept his eyes off of the dark water.

"I don't want to hurt you," Muriel said, quietly. "Will... will you be okay?"

"When have you known me to not be okay?" Asra asked, his eyes shining with confidence, a smile tugged onto his lips, though it was all solely to encourage Muriel, to get that last little bit of faith that he needed, he put his hand on top of Muriel's, curling Muriel's fingers about his shoulder, holding Muriel's grip there. He moved back ever so slightly, still perfectly in range. Muriel's arm wasn't even extended fully yet, still settled on his shoulder. The sooner this bit was over, the sooner he'd be getting Muriel to a shallower part of the lake. The sooner he'd know he was safe.

"This will only take a few seconds if you trust me," he said again, insisting yet still being careful as to avoid saying the wrong thing. "Please, Muriel. You won't hurt me, and you won't go under. Then we can sit by the trees, far from the waters edge, and I'll set out the blankets for us to relax. We won't even have to look at the water again until morning. You just need to take this leap of faith and trust that I'll get you out of here. It'll be over in a heartbeat."

Muriel nodded gently, casting one final glance to the pillar he held onto before turning to look at Asra. A leap of faith... faith was something Muriel could say was rare to come by for him. Trust, faith, comfort — all had been in short supply ever since he met Lucio. Perhaps he ran out before that. When his parents cast him out — something that happened so long ago Muriel couldn't even remember the faces of his family. How could he have any faith left?

He didn't know. But... somehow... Muriel managed to look into Asra's eyes and find a sliver of something that felt like trust.

Things moved quickly. Muriel didn't feel himself pushing off of the pillar — but one moment he was clinging to solid wood, and the next there'd been nothing but cold water. Well, there was water, and there was Asra. Muriel held onto Asra's shoulder, straightening out his legs to desperately find the bottom. He felt Asra's hand on his back, turning him towards the shore and out from beneath the docks. His boots hit the lake bed, and Muriel let go of Asra's shoulder, scrambling up the bank until he managed to find solid ground. He climbed out of the lake and slumped back onto the shore, panting as he scooted back from the lapping shoreline, soaking wet and shivering from cold.

Muriel watched Asra climb out of the water behind him. Asra made his way up to Muriel's side, settling a hand on his shoulder and leaning down to ask if he'd been alright. Muriel nodded quickly, reaching his hands up to their opposite arms.

"I'm sorry," he said through chattering teeth. "I... I'm being stupid — it wasn't that serious."

Asra cupped Muriel's cheeks, offering him a soft smile.  
"You don't need to apologise to me," he said, wrapping both arms firmly around Muriel's neck, nestling into it, pressing close to him as if he'd been afraid- as afraid as Muriel had been. Though his fear instead resided in the thought of scaring Muriel away, of losing him, of triggering some repressed trauma and having Muriel leave, refuse their sanctuary and reject him for this incident.

But it had worked out. Muriel was okay. He was okay. And Muriel wasn't trying to leave, desperate to get out of this place.

"You're okay," he promised him, moving back just a little, his hand settling on Muriel's shoulder. "You're more than okay. I'm proud of you, Muriel. It takes a lot of strength to control your fear like that."

Finally, though, he pulled back to rub his hands together. He shook them off, starting up that surge of energy and warm air, the same as he'd done to dry off Inanna, and he held out his hands toward Muriel. The warm air immediately began to work it's magic, and Asra directed it at Muriel's hair first. He'd packed extra clothes for Muriel, some pyjamas and something for him to wear the following day, so he was hopefully going to be able to convince Muriel to change out of those soaked clothes and into something dry. He had a couple of towels, too, and he was mostly just focused on drying Muriel's hair out for now.

Faust came over after a moment, carrying the basket- which was much lighter now- and setting it down beside Asra. He reached inside and dug out the new clothes and an ivy green towel, offering them to Muriel.

"Here. You should get out of your soaked clothes. I'll... probably have to get dressed, too, and then we can settle down. I'll even put some blankets up so you don't have to look at the lake. Would that help?"

Muriel nodded, trying to soothe the shaking of his hands and the beating of his heart. He was already starting to calm himself — already going through the process of packing away all the memories stirred up from his fall. He'd just need a moment or so to collect himself. Muriel swallowed hard and reached a shaky hand up to take the towel and clothes from Asra, lifting his head to look around for some place to change.

"I'm sorry," he repeated in a mumble, not knowing what else to say. Muriel thought the scene over in his head — feeling his features flush at his display. At the memory of what could have happened if the dock didn't break. Of what Muriel probably ruined.

A mess of words began to spill from his lips as he scrambled to justify himself, afraid Asra would look down on him. Would be angry with him.

"Something happened to me with water- someone did something. I just... it scares me to go under. I didn't mean to... to freak out..."

Again. Muriel winced. Asra probably thought he was a freak. A broken man.

Almost immediately, though, Asra had moved to be before Muriel.

"You have nothing to apologise for," he promised, a little smile on his lips. "Everyone's scared of something. You don't owe me an apology. I'm proud of you for trusting me, Muriel, and I'd never want you to feel like you should apologise for being scared."

 

He still smiled, patient, running his fingers through Muriel's damp hair. He leant in, pressing a delicate kiss to Muriel's forehead- a silent reassurance, an unspoken promise that it was okay, that he had nothing to apologise for.

"It's okay," he insisted again. "Come on, let's get you out of those wet clothes."

He pushed to his feet, pulling Muriel up after him. He took a few big blankets from the basket and hooked one over a low hanging tree branch, gesturing to it.  
"How's that?" he asked. "You can stay behind it while you get changed, if you want. I'm going to dry off and change over here, then I'll set out some blankets for us to sleep on."

Muriel couldn't deny that kiss eased the sting of his guilt, but he also couldn't deny it made his heart pick up even more than it had already been speeding. He held the clothes up to his chest, offering Asra one last glance before turning. He didn't answer Asra's question with anything verbal -- just a half hearted shrug before making his wordless way behind the blanket Asra had set up.

The bright panic from before had all but faded. He just felt embarrassed by the time he was by himself behind Asra's blanket -- sopping wet and freezing, his face bright red and his chest tight. Muriel looked around the forest worriedly before peeling off his wet shirt, feeling overly exposed as he tugged on the top Asra had brought along with him. He repeated the process with his pants, and then stepped awkwardly out from behind the makeshift curtain, barefoot, his wet boots and socks held in his hand.

Asra had already been dressed, setting out those blankets from before as Muriel stepped up to him. He looked down, his brow furrowing a bit as he quietly watched Asra work.

"You want to sleep here," Muriel said quietly after a while of watching Asra set up what had to have been a bed. He wasn't quite asking -- in fact, the statement hadn't even really been for Asra. Muriel just quietly mumbled his realization, looking up to meet Asra's smiling features. "I guess... I could stay, too. If you want me to. Just to... keep guard... or something."

His voice was quiet and grumbled. His normal, really. Not panicked, but not soft and gentle like it had been before he had fallen into the water. Just the usual stoic mumble.

"I'd like it if you stayed," Asra said, setting out another couple of blankets and taking a small handful of pillows, moving them to their little blanket mound and moving to settle down. On the soft grass, with the several excess blankets, Asra felt content. He just wanted Muriel, to lie with him and keep him safe overnight. He just wanted to stay with Muriel until morning came and brought responsibilities, new mundanities for them to do. Reasons for him to be away from Muriel as much as he hated to be.

"Come on," he called, patting the space beside him. "We can settle down here. Get some sleep. We'll wake up early tomorrow, I'm guessing around eight or nine. It's not scheduled to rain tonight, either, which is nice. I won't even cuddle up to you too much if I can help it."

That was a bit of a false promise. He couldn't help how clingy he was when he slept, and something about Muriel just made him feel safe enough to be shamelessly clingy. He just hoped that his comfort around Muriel was mutual- it was hard to tell sometimes.

Muriel sighed, lifting his head to scan their surroundings for a moment or so before stepping over to Asra's blankets and settling down -- his legs crossed and his postures stiff where he sat. Inanna hurried up to his side, curling into a comfortable ball at his side and resting her head on his leg. Muriel lifted his hand to idly pet her, the fur thick and coarse as he combed his fingers down her back.

"Why would you want to sleep outside?" Muriel asked into the quiet air of the night. "You have a perfectly comfortable bed... and a big, warm apartment. Do you usually sleep out here?"

"I prefer it out here," Asra said with a shrug as he rolled toward Muriel, looking up at him. "It's nice, don't you think? Quiet, alone, calm. Nobody could find me out here. People could look and look and I could stay here for as long as I wanted, sleeping under the stars, swimming in the lake..."

He closed his eyes, a soft and contented sigh slipping past his lips. By now he'd be high if Muriel wasn't there. He wasn't going to kick back with a blunt if he didn't think that Muriel would be comfortable with it, and that was a totally grey area that he didn't want to delve into. Besides, being sober wasn't too bad with Muriel by his side.

"I could spend months out here without seeing another person. Even then, I'd need to have strayed pretty far from here to see anyone who didn't know their way around these woods." His eyes flicked down to Inanna, who seemed to be pretty content and close to falling asleep. It was only a few moments before his gaze, naturally, drifted back to Muriel. To that soft, scarred face only illuminated by the fairy lights, cast in that silvery glow. "My bed is fine and all, and my apartment is great, but... enjoying moments like this are better. I'd spend every night living out here if I could. Just wandering, exploring the forest, eating whatever and whenever, letting time pass me by. People know me in the city. There's nobody out here that could know me. Doesn't that sound nice? Nobody to judge you for who you are, or who you were; what you've done or what you're doing. I could do anything out here and nobody would be able to shame me or stop me."

His hand found Muriel's without him realising it. Maybe it was intentional, maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was unintentional. It felt nice, though. Muriel's calloused, rough hands were bigger than his own and felt nice to hold.

"You always seem so worried about who knows you and who doesn't, or what you've done... or... whatever else..." His eyes closed and he rolled onto his back again, absently rubbing soft circles into Muriel's skin. His fingertips tingled, but it could have been because of how long he'd been tracing shapes or because of how electric it was to feel Muriel's skin against his own. "Maybe that's why I wanted you to come out here. Where there's nobody to care. You're not whoever you were when you're out here. You're just whoever you are right now."

Muriel's gaze had softened — finally turning his head to look and watch Asra as he spoke. He didn't tense when Asra touched his hand. He didn't shy away or even flinch. Muriel might have even turned his hand a little, pressing closer into Asra's touch. The slight raise of his shoulders had relaxed, all the leftover fear from dipping beneath the cool water of the lake was melting away. He just listened as Asra spoke to him, clinging onto every word.

He even found himself wanting to hear more the moment Asra's voice had stopped beside him.

"Yeah..." he murmured, not knowing how else to respond. Muriel didn't want to disrupt the atmosphere again. He didn't want to ruin the moment again. "That makes sense. I understand that..."

Muriel looked away from Asra, eyes flicking down to Inanna at his side. His fingers curled a little about Asra's — just the slightest twitch of movement. Inanna gave a soft sigh, her tail thumping. She didn't say anything, but Muriel could still feel the warm presence of her comfort in his own chest.

"I... I usually like to be alone," Muriel said after a few moments of silence. "I'm not good around other people. They don't like me... so I don't like them. I stay alone. But I don't have a place to go. I have the shop and my apartment but... they're not safe. But this place... even with that water-"

Surprisingly, Muriel managed to crack a gentle smile at that.

"It's nice. Like you said it's... there's no one here to be afraid of me. There's just... you." He looked up at Asra again, blushing. "So I like it here. I'm... thankful you shared it with me. I'd like to be alone here. Alone... with, uh- with you."

Asra's eyes fluttered open at that, as if he hadn't expected to be told something so sweet- much less by Muriel, who was talking to him in such a tender tone, so endearing. Asra wouldn't have expected Muriel to be able to speak in such a way- he was always gruff but in a quiet sort of way, timid, shy. Never had Asra expected to hear him be sweet and fond. Like he was confessing something secret and precious, something he'd never have thought to say to anyone else. It made Asra feel important. Not just important to himself because he was truly helping someone, because he was able to appeal to Muriel's needs and help him feel comfortable, but important to Muriel. Important to someone that was important to him, someone that he wanted to be important to.

"You can be alone with me whenever you want," he promised Muriel, gaze fixed on him. He could only barely make out the blush against Muriel's skin in the pale light, and only then did he realise that the warmth on his own cheeks couldn't be exclusively blamed on the alcohol. "I would love that."

His hand held a little tighter to Muriel's. Not in the same hesitant, slight way that Muriel held onto him- no, Asra let his hand slot properly into Muriel's, squeezing his hand gently as he lay there.

"Is there anything else you want to tell me?" he asked Muriel, his voice almost teasingly fond but not daring to go far enough to make Muriel embarrassed or upset. "I'm all ears, though we should get some sleep soon."

Muriel shook his head, closing his eyes and looking away.

"No," he mumbled. His voice had gruffened up a bit, shoulders rising up a little more, eyes flicking off to the side. "We could just try to... go to sleep, I guess."

He let their hands stay together a little longer than he usually would have but eventually he slipped his hand back. Muriel shifted down, quietly telling Inanna she should move as he sank down onto his back, the blankets soft and plush beneath him, the stars brilliant and beautiful above him. He scooted to the further side of the blanket, Inanna curling up by his feet as he got himself comfortable, the space between Muriel had put between him and Asra rather obvious. He didn't think anything of it, of course. He wanted his space, and he could only assume Asra wanted the same.

"Inanna will wake me up if anything happens," Muriel mumbled. "I probably won't fall asleep for awhile so... I'll... keep guard for now, I guess."

Asra let out a soft sort of laugh, eyes closing as he got comfy lying back under the stars, already feeling himself succumbing to tiredness, letting himself be drawn in by the ever-alluring call of sleep.

"You don't need to keep guard," he promised Muriel softly. "There's nobody out here. I've slept here hundreds of times without any problems."

His words got a little quieter soon, though, drawn out a little with sleepiness. He'd built up the perfect potion for sleep- a full belly, alcohol still thrumming through his system, a few comfortable blankets beneath him and the cool night air. Muriel being beside him only made it better.

"Goodnight, Muriel."

Muriel kept his eyes on the stars above them, allowing his lips to curl into the slightest smile -- one he hoped Asra couldn't see.

"Goodnight Asra."


	13. Hyrdophobia

Don't do it.

The paperweight was heavy in his pocket. Of course, as paperweights go, that particular one was heavier than most. The solid gold, bedazzled with jewels -- the sleek curvature of the sculpted goat head dense and weighty. He remembered all the times he'd met eyes with the thing, standing before Lucio's desk in his stiff attention, allowing his gaze to drift from the man behind the desk and down to the goats eyes. Eyes of real ruby that glittered when polished -- and my, they'd been polished a lot.

Don't do it.

Put it back.

How strange it was that he'd become so familiar with the goat paperweight, but never dared to touch it. Feel it. To touch anything upon Lucio's desk was forbidden, of course. Hallowed ground he was not meant to cross. Too good for him, as Lucio would put it. He'd just get it dirty.

Dirty with blood.

He felt the elevator stop. It stopped with a jolt of sorts -- one that made his legs feel weak and his balance feel thrown. Or was it like that before? He didn't have time to think about it. The elevator doors opened. Bright lights of the lobby beld into the sight spaces as the doors droned their way open, the chime of the elevator speakers like twin tuning forks held up to each of his ears despite being so quiet before. The voice in the back of his head whispered in the wake of it as he stepped forwards.

Don't do it.

It isn't worth it.

Put it back.

Somehow, the lobby was darker when he stepped into the main floor. The shadows crept from their corners like ivy. Like hands reaching out to grasp him. For some reason, he couldn't hurry his step. He just walked forwards down the distorted path he couldn't deter from. The shadows could touch him all they wanted -- there was nothing he could do about it. He could do nothing about most things those days.

Don't do it.

No one talked to him. No one usually did. Averted stares from faces he couldn't turn and see. Awkward shuffles in the opposite direction from feet he couldn't hear. That's why he didn't worry about anyone stopping him. That's why he'd allowed his 'meeting' of sorts to take place in the lobby of the Palace. Lucio would wonder if he drifted too far... and Lucio wondering about him was never quite good.

Last chance. Turn back.

Don't do it.

You know what will happen. You know what's coming.

The 'meeting' took place on a metal bench set against the wall of the Palace lobby. The man he was to meet with was already there -- face lost to ill memory. Consumed by shadow. He didn't know what the man looked like. He didn't know what he sounded like. He never did. In every repeated track of that repressed moment, he never knew.

Stop.

Don't do it.

Stop!

He didn't stop. He made his way to the bench, and cleared his throat, earning the man's shadowed gaze.

"Ah," the man hummed, as he always did. The voice was fuzzy -- unreal. A generic tone in the back of his mind. "I was beginning to think you'd chickened out, Scourge."

Muriel, following the plot of his memory, didn't respond.

Don't do it.

The voice was getting louder.

Stop! Stop!

His eyes on the ground, Muriel reached his hand into his pocket and revealed the golden paperweight to the man on the bench. It glittered in the lights of the lobby -- even with the shadows, the reflections of the goat's golden surface had been like stage lights, shooting off into every direction. Muriel worried someone would see it... but it seemed as though it was just him and that man in the lobby. Alone. He didn't think to wonder where everyone else went, a burning spool of worry winding and unwinding itself about his stomach as he waited for the man on the bench to respond.

Any moment now. You know what happens.

Stop.

Don't do it.

The man on the bench stood up -- quick to snatch the heavy paperweight from Muriel's outstretched hand. The moment he touched it, the reflections of the jewels and gold winked out. False hope raced its fleeting track up Muriel's chest when the man stuffed the goat into his coat pocket. Maybe this would be the time nothing happened? The time no one found out?

Don't be stupid.

You're doomed.

You know what comes next.

"Thanks for this, big guy." The fuzzed voice of that faceless man spoke again. The echo bounced around Muriel like the beep of the elevator. The hope flushed from his system, its void filling in with cool, bitter dread. The plot was right on track. He could quote the next line of the script by memory.

"You know, maybe you aren't as bad as everyone says you are."

He's wrong.

Take it back. Put it back. You have time-

"Go. Now."

Muriel's voice was quiet when he spoke for the first time. He could barely hear himself over the echo. The breath of his words must have been eaten by the shadow too.

Stupid, stupid...

You know what comes next.

The man began to say something. Muriel could hear his breath stutter as he parted his invisible lips, but then the shadows shifted. That slight trickle of fear became a wash of it all. Muriel could feel it, heavy in his chest like a fist as it balled against his lungs -- watching as the shadows moved, gathering together in a silhouette that formed just behind him. That rose up to an impossible height over his shoulders, casting over the man before him as the slight scrape of metallic fingers whispered through the air.

Muriel knew the hand would settle on his arm before he felt the chill of the metal seep through his clothes and skin and right down to his very bones.

Idiot.

Get ready for what comes next.

The touch on his arm was delicate at first, almost as if it was hesitant. Almost. He should have known better- Lucio had just enjoyed watching Muriel's body jolt, seizing with tension, trembling under his delicate touch. Then it tightened, fingers curling, the fine points of his gauntlet fingertips digging into Muriel's skin even through the heavy cloak that shielded him.

The blink of an eye. That was all it took, and they were back in that office. Wrapped up in those suffocating crimson walls, the gleaming golden portraits all suddenly seeming to stare at Muriel, Lucio's gaze unyielding, relentless, disgusted. And there, right in front of him, was the man himself. He was perched on his desk. The memory was melted into his brain, the freeze frame of this moment- of the coldness in Lucio's eyes, of the hand settled on his waist, gripping just a little too tight to his rich clothes. It could have easily been assumed that he was trying to hide his anger, but Lucio had no reason to hide it. In his other hand, the prosthetic, was that paperweight.

When had Lucio let go of him? When had the lobby been swapped for Lucio's office? The metal bench for the mahogany desk? It was unclear. Fuzzy. Lost, but still almost within reach. Settled on the tip of his tongue, or if he extended his arm and reached out, his fingertips could have just brushed against the unimportant part of the memory. They could just tease at the idea of revealing information, but that wasn't the important part of the story.

No, the important part was unfurling before him.

"Scourge."

That voice always sickened him. It filled the pit of his stomach a churning kind of uneasiness that grew rapidly. It sent a chill through his body and flooded his brain with panic. Was that something it had done in the moment, or was that new? Unclear. Always unclear. The difference between now and then was never obvious enough. His memory of the event was distorted by time, twisted and wrapped up in emotions, in panic, his fight or flight instinct setting off and making him want to run, to escape.

He knew what was happening next.

He also knew that there was no way to avoid it.

"Look at your master when he's speaking to you, Scourge."

There was always venom in his voice at this part. Muriel couldn't even recall when his gaze had dropped, when it had fixed on the floor. Was he trying to avoid the overpowering glowers that reigned on him from all angles, from every portrait, every photo, every ornament or statue. Even the paperweight in Lucio's hand had been glinting, those ruby eyes catching the light and shining as if they were mocking him too.

As if they'd known that this would happen all along. A movie they loved to watch again and again. The same dance, the same song, the same everything. All at Muriel's expense.

"I would have expected this kind of behaviour from-"

The faceless man had no name. None that could be remembered, anyway. Every time they got to this point, Lucio's voice got distant. Twisted. It didn't sound human anymore- but only for a moment or so. Only for a collection of unintelligible syllables. A scramble of letters. Then, as if to punish Muriel for drowning out the name, Lucio's voice got louder. Deafening. Snapping the attention back to him just in case Muriel had dared let his focus drift away.

"But from my favourite bodyguard? From someone who was always so loyal, so obedient?"

The paperweight was slammed down on the desk. At least it sounded like it was- it could have been put down delicately, slowly, but the thumping of the gold against the desk was always louder than a gunshot for him. That was when Lucio had slid off of the desk, and in a moment he'd gripped onto Muriel's collar. Sometimes he hooked his fingers through that loop, sometimes he would pull Muriel over by tugging his hair. This time, he grabbed onto the chain and yanked it without warning, tugging him forward and leaning down close. His foot had settled on the chair between Muriel's legs. Every part of Lucio was uncomfortable close, their eyes locked though Lucio's seemed to be more vibrantly red than usual, burning with hatred, with anger, with something unplaceable- something that always later revealed to be excitement. Excitement for what was to come, for what Lucio was going to do.

Excitement that reflected as dread in Muriel's eyes.

"You know what the punishment is going to be for something so severe, don't you? You know what I'm going to have to do?"

You know what comes next.

The collar bit at Muriel's neck -- it pressed into skin, just to the point of inciting sharp pain along his nerves, but not enough to draw blood. Not that Lucio couldn't draw blood from a mere tug of Muriel's chain, of course. It had happened enough before to make him wary of it.

He tried to swallow, but the pressure on his throat just constricted, the collar tighter than before. Claustrophobic. Everything in him begged to reach up and tug at the lip of it, to try and relieve some of the pressure, but his arms stayed down at his sides. Obedient. Just like Lucio said he was.

Do what he says. Answer his question.

You know what comes next.

"Yes... yes, sir."

Again, his voice was quiet. So quiet, it was almost as though Muriel had just been moving his lips -- a breath of sound whispering past his tongue. Whether he was speaking that quiet, or the shadows of Lucio's office began to stifle and muffle him again, Muriel didn't know. He just trained his gaze into the red glare of Lucio's eyes, and waited.

Waited for what would come next.

Something similar to a purr seemed to slip past Lucio's lips as his hold on the collar loosened. He pulled his hand back, running the sharp golden fingertips through Muriel's messy hair, tugging at it. Muriel's whole body tenses, but he didn't pull away. He never did.  
"You know that you deserve this, don't you?"

His words grew quieter now, almost poisoned with a mocking sort of fondness. Manipulation- it was always so obvious in hindsight. The way Lucio dropped his voice to seem nearly tender. The way he acted as if he was being merciful with his cruelty. The way he pretended that it wasn't optional for him to hurt Muriel.

"I'm being merciful. You know that." That false warmth was always alluring in some way. Sickening, yes, and unsettling now that Muriel knew what was coming next, but something about it was promising. "You're my favourite. I'd only hurt you if I had to. And now... I have to."

He straightened up, tugging the chain of Muriel's collar again. He almost pulled him to his feet, too, with such ease that could only be achieved in Muriel's memory but was never questioned. The second that Lucio let go of the chain, though, Muriel was falling back into a seat- and the room around them changed again.

Darker now.

Not totally dark. But darker.

Grey walls, black floors. Tiles. The kind that let out an unsettling clicking sound each time Lucio's heels tapped against the floor, giving away where he stood. It would have. In any other situation, it would have. The tapping of his shoes would have echoed about the room, stronger one side and weaker the other, making it easy to pinpoint his location. In this situation, though, the clacking of those shoes were as loud as any other noise that Muriel would have loved to forget. The sound of that paperweight settling on the table may have been loud, but in comparison the clicking of the heels were dizzying, nauseating, and seemed to echo louder, bouncing off of the walls until they were the only sound that could be heard. Repetitive, relentless, clicking, clacking.

Again, again, again.

The only thing that stopped the torturous sounds was Lucio's voice- a godsend compared to the cacophony of clicking, of clacking, of scuffing shoes from whoever else was in there, but that didn't make it pleasant. A pinprick would be a godsend compared to a stab wound, but that didn't make it good.

"Scourge."

So much for a favourite- Lucio wouldn't have put even an ounce of effort toward learning Muriel's name. Scourge was always better. More intimidating, more threatening. It left an impression. It made a statement. What was the familiarity of a name compared to the fear that a nickname could instill in an enemy. It was always 'have you met my Scourge?', never 'have you seen Muriel?'. Was being nonthreatening suddenly now an insult?

Unclear. It always was.

Everything always was.

"I hope you understand. I have a reputation- a name to live up to. If even my closest... coworkers-" Debtors, mostly. Unwilling workers. Slaves to him because of a few borrowed pennies. "Were to betray me, were to work against me, it could damage the image I've been building up for so long. This is simply business. Routine. You understand, don't you?"

He didn't wait for a response, moving his hand, gesturing for something to be done. There was the sound of creaky wheels- some kind of a cart. Something heavy was being brought over. It wasn't for another few moments that the squeaking wheels stopped that he could hear what it was. Softly, yet just as everything else it was deafening against the silence, water could be heard sloshing behind him. The smile that curled onto Lucio's lips was a little too wide to be human, surely. Unsettling. Unnerving. But what about him wasn't?

He had the power here, and he loved it.

"We'll get this over with as quickly as we can. I still have business to attend to. If I hadn't seen you shuffling past the business hall, I might not have realised any of this was happening. You weren't supposed to be wandering about, though, so I paused the meeting to follow you."

He took a step toward Muriel, one hand settling on his chest, fingers splayed out. The touch was icy against his skin- but nowhere near as icy as the water was going to be.  
"And what a surprise was waiting for me when I did! Oh, it was wonderful. I'd been looking for something to get me out of my boredom for days. But don't you worry, most of my boredom will be taken out on your partner in crime. I know you'd never do something like this to me of your own accord."

No matter how many times Muriel would listen to that part of the script, the same stab of guilt would press deep into his gut -- the heat of that shame clashing oddly with the ice spread by Lucio's golden fingertips. He felt his jaw muscles pulse, clenching his teeth hard to keep his bottom lip from quivering. It would only be a matter of moments. Only a handful of ticks from the clock Lucio had hanging above the tightly locked door -- the one that clicked louder and louder with every second that bled past.

Muriel tried to close his eyes, but the slight tut from Lucio caused him to snap them right open again. He was going to watch. To look at Lucio in the eyes. To feel the red glow of his gaze bathe his features in its dreadful hue, to feel those silver daggers press into his skin the same way the collar had. Muriel could feel the shuddering breath hitch its way past his lungs, the world around him so quiet yet so loud at the same time.

You deserve this.

Idiot.

You deserve this.

"Keep your eyes on me," came the low command, suddenly colder than anything else he'd said. Sharper. "And feel free to beg me to stop. I'd love to hear it."

Muriel nodded gently, finally allowing his bottom jaw to tremble. His heart hammered in his chest. The clock ticked its booming clicks above him. That frigid water behind him lapped in its container. The silence beneath it all rang -- rang so loud Muriel felt as though he could go mad from it all.

His voice was finally loud enough to hear when he spoke again.

"Yes, sir."

Lucio smiled, lips curling up in a way that couldn't be possible -- a way that couldn't be human. The same way his eyes flashed and the claws of his prosthetic grew and curled into Muriel's chest. It looked like he was cursed with ungodly golden talons, jutting out of his hand like the weapons were built into him, like he had no option to do anything but hurt. Lucio's thin lips revealed teeth that seemed too sharp to be human, too jagged to sit in his mouth comfortable, and when he licked his lips his tongue was thin and forked. The red of his eyes almost seemed to glow, shining brighter than any of the other lights in that dark room as they shined with malice and amusement. The haunting image snapshotted itself into Muriel's brain, as it always did. It was the picture he'd put on the box of that memory -- the trademark. The glimpse of fear that would forever imprint in Muriel's mind. No matter how foggy the memory. No matter how shadowed the nightmare.

And, without another moment's pause, Lucio pushed down on Muriel's chest and he tipped backwards into the water.

The sound from before winked out. All there was had been the ring.

The first time beneath the surface of that bitter water had been the shortest. The chill hit him, sliced into his nerves like needles -- all pushing into his face and neck. He'd snapped his eyes shut on impulse, his whole body racking in a flinch the moment the chill clung to his skin. A few moments passed. Just as Muriel's chest began to feel an inkling of an ache, he was ripped back out. The collar pulled against his neck, the chain going taut as Lucio wrenched him up by it, his gasp ragged as he broke the surface.

Muriel never quite heard what Lucio had to say after that. His heart was beating too loud. The clock was ticking too loud. He was too focused on the icy daggers trailing down the back of his spine with every droplet of water that dripped from his wet hair and face. Muriel always wondered if it had something to do with looking at him again -- but the moment he fluttered open his eyes, he was pushed back down. Without a chance to catch his breath.

Again and again and again he was pushed and pulled from the water. Each time under grew longer. Each time under his chest would clench more and his throat would catch more. Each time above, however, grew shorter and shorter. Each time above his eyes would snap open faster and the harsh air would slip between his lips and into his flaming throat and ragged lungs. It wasn't long before he was pushed back down mid-gasp, and brought back up choking and coughing up the water he'd inhaled.

The memory droned on from there -- longer and longer. In and out. Breathless. Exhausted. Drowning. A fuzz of misery he wouldn't let himself think about as long as he could before the memory came peeking from its cavern. Before the shadows came tugging at his sleeve.

It never stopped. It never would. That was the memory -- that was the script.

You knew where it would go. You knew what would happen, Muriel.

The voices were loud. Everything was loud.

Don't do it. Stop.

Muriel-

He couldn't breathe. Lucio wouldn't stop.

Muriel-

Why was that one so loud? He just wanted it to be quiet. He wanted it all to stop-

Don't do it. Don't do it.

Idiot. You know what was coming.

Muriel.

He just needed to breathe. Muriel just needed a moment to breathe. Collect himself-

Muriel!

That one was too loud. It rang in his ears like that chime from the elevators. Why did it say his name like that? Why did it yell at him? It made his head hurt. He still couldn't breathe.

Muriel!

What was he going to do? Where could he go? There was no one there to help him. There was never anyone there to-

"Muriel!"

Finally, Muriel's eyes snapped open. A desperate gasp of cool, crisp, and very real air filled his lungs in one desperate gulp. He shot up from where he'd been laying fast, both hands flying for his throat, ready to feel the cool metal of his collar beneath his fingertips. Warm skin met them instead, his pulse racing under the violent tremble of his fingers.

He gasped for air, just like he'd done when Lucio pulled him from the water, still feeling that frigid prickle all over his face and neck. Muriel shivered, reaching one of his hands up into his hair -- feeling the soft, dry locks with a dull thrum of confusion. He looked down at himself and his normal, dry clothes, and then down at the blanket he'd been sat up on. Then he looked at Inanna beside him, her whine finding him through the blood that roared in his ears. He took his hand from his hair and touched her back -- feeling her real fur. Her real body. Muriel looked up again, trying to find out where he'd been-

And he locked eyes with Asra, who'd been sitting up straight right beside him, features worried.

"Muriel?"

Ah. The loud voice. No wonder he'd been so frightened of it. No one had ever woken him up from that nightmare before.

Muriel looked away fast, scrambling back on the blanket. He held his arm out, almost as if he meant to use it as a shield. Who he'd been shielding, himself or Asra, Muriel didn't know.

"Stay away." Muriel's voice was wobbled. It was raspy and breathless. He'd be lucky if he wasn't crying. "Stay... stay away from me. I don't... I don't want to..."

He trailed off, still trying to collect his breath. "Just stay away."

Asra, despite his overwhelming concern and worry, nodded and he kept back. He let Muriel's outstretched arm work as a guide and kept almost another arms length away from him. He raised his hands either side of his head, fingers splayed in a sign of surrender, a show that he was letting Muriel have the space he needed.

"Breathe," he coaxed, Faust curling up around his fingertips, her head tilted worriedly to the side as she looked at Muriel. "It was a nightmare. That's all it was. Sit back, breathe. You're safe."

He was still so worried about Muriel, and despite his desire to look after Muriel he knew that it would be better to give Muriel the space he wanted. But that didn't make it hurt any less to see Muriel's eyes wide, frenzied with panic as they flicked from side to side, scanning the area as if to be sure that it was clear of threats. Not to mention the way he seemed to tremble.

"You're safe, Muriel," he promised him again, voice soft. Quiet. Warm. "Listen to me. You're here, with me. Safe. There's nobody else and no one can hurt you. Trust me. Take deep breaths, you'll be okay. I'm here."

Slowly, as if he knew how risky of a move it was, Asra extended one hand toward Muriel. He kept his distance still, but pushed just a little closer- waiting for Muriel to either accept or reject him. If Muriel took his hand, he'd embrace him and promise him safety until those shallow, panicked breaths became even and content. If Muriel didn't, he'd promise him he could take as long as he needed to recover, he'd pull away, and he'd work on breakfast while Muriel looked after himself.

But he hoped that Muriel would let him help. The thought of just leaving and making Muriel look after himself was repulsive.

Muriel didn't see the hand Asra was offering -- he was turned nearly all the way around, head ducked, his one hand still on his bare throat. Inanna stood up from her spot beside him, pushing her nose towards Muriel's face but backing up when he shied away from her. She turned and made her nervous way up to Asra, ears pressed flat against her head as she whined. Muriel didn't even hear her, but Asra pulled his hand back from Muriel and settled it on Inanna's head, starting to pet her to help her calm down, muttering a quiet promise that he had it under control. Even if Muriel wasn't even looking at them.

He was too focused on getting himself together.

His breaths still shuddered, but they had begun to iron out -- the usual, auto piloted process of calming down taking its course as he settled his eyes closed. Muriel still trembled, though. His hands shook and his bottom lip quivered. The lump in his throat was heavy and dense, choking him up and pushing him closer to tears. Muriel managed to swallow it back enough to speak, his voice rough and raspy as he huffed his words past his quaking breaths.

"You shouldn't have done that," he muttered. His voice was more level then, not as frightened. Although, it had lowered and gruffened into something darker. "I could have hurt you."

"You didn't hurt me," Asra pointed out softly, his voice quieter now. Less soft out of caution and more out of worry. He didn't know what had gotten Muriel so scared, what had him shaken to his core. "You couldn't hurt a fly, Muriel. I know you wouldn't hurt me."

He didn't reach out for him this time. He didn't offer his hand or move closer, just wrapping one arm around Inanna and continuing to give her love to help her calm down. She was still whining, letting out anxious little huffs of air from her nose, ears pinned back against her head. Her worry seemed to imply that Muriel rarely got in this kind of a state- which made it all the more worrying for Asra.

"Stop saying that." Muriel's voice was nearly a growl. "You don't know that. You don't... you don't know what I've done..."

Muriel didn't finish. He shook his head and focused on his breathing again -- not allowing himself to go on. Not allowing himself to slip up. To lose his grip on the heavy veil he kept draped over his secrets. His past.

He leaned up a little, hand still on his throat. He was afraid to take it away -- afraid the moment he'd let his hand slip away, the collar would snap itself back around his neck. That the chains would drag him back to the water. Muriel squeezed his eyes tight, jaw muscles pulsing with every clench of his jaw.

"Do I need to know?" Asra asked, frowning a little, still keeping his voice quiet. "Your past, what you've done, that isn't who you are now. I told you last night. Right now, with me, you're just you. You're not what you've done, or what you think you've done. You're just who you are now, and the Muriel I'm talking to wouldn't hurt a fly."

He didn't dare move closer. Not out of fear, not out of wariness, but because he could see from Muriel's trembling that it would be a bad idea, that moving any closer could risk further detriment to Muriel's already fragile state. Because he wasn't going to risk upsetting Muriel further for any reason.

"Muriel, please, look at me. I want to help you, but I can't do that unless you let me. I won't do it unless you let me." He spoke a little louder now, clearer, but still being careful to make sure he didn't come across as threatening and ensuring that he wouldn't be too loud. It was a fine line to walk, but it would be worth it if Muriel opened up to him and let him help. He'd sit in silence next to him for days if that was what it took for Muriel to accept his help.

 

"Do you think you could manage that?" just one more little push and then he'd stop. One nudge in the right direction. "Do you think you could look at me?"

Muriel continued to frown, head still ducked, eyes still closed -- but he could feel the raise of his shoulders begin to slump. He started to shake his head, not even giving himself a chance to think about turning, but Asra's voice hung heavy in the air. The echo of his words were fresh in Muriel's ears, fresh in Muriel's system. He swallowed hard, feeling the slight pull of his heart. He let his arm, the one he held out behind him, fall to his side. The hand against his neck relaxed, but he kept it there, feeling his throat bob with another swallow.

"You almost make me want to believe you..." he muttered after awhile, eyes opening up into a half lidded sort of gaze. Muriel gave a low sigh, ignoring the tremor of his body as he leaned up. He was slow to look over his shoulder, bangs fallen over his face and eyes as he peeked back towards Asra.

Asra had been looking at him with wide eyes. Concerned eyes. Scared eyes. Guilt flooded Muriel's system, but he didn't look away, brow furrowing over his tired eyes. His voice was a little softer, leff gruff, when he spoke again.

"It was a bad dream," he said, bottom jaw trembling again. "I get them... a lot but... but this one was... different."

Most involved blood. Fighting. Guilt. The wild, terrified eyes of the people he'd hurt staring up at him, into him -- all ignored as he followed the script. Those were the ones he dealt with most... those were the ones he'd wake up from and look at the invisible blood he was sure coated his hands. Those were the ones he could suffer through, as though he'd gotten used to it all...

That one with Lucio and the water however...

It was rare. And Muriel was wildly unprepared for it.

"It doesn't matter," he continued, shaking his head. "I'm over it. It's fine." Of course, the quivering of his body and the pressure in his chest proved otherwise, but Muriel's tone was stoic and firm. He flicked his eyes to the ground. "You don't have to worry about me, Asra. I... I don't want you to."

Muriel might not have felt it, but Asra noticed the way that the tension left his body the second he'd lifted his eyes. A connection with reality had been formed, and it had been a powerful sort of ground mechanism, even if it had gone unnoticed. Even if Muriel was still volatile and anxious, even if he was still trembling and afraid, he was a little better. That was what mattered.

Asra, though hesitant, moved a little closer. He pushed himself toward Muriel despite Inanna's concerned huff.

He lifted his hand- slowly, to show that he had no ill intent, and moved it so it was just a few inches from Muriel's face, clear in his vision so it wouldn't seem like he was trying to trick Muriel.  
"Can I?"

The request was soft, breathless, almost afraid- though not of Muriel, of rejection. Of being told that he couldn't, that Muriel didn't trust him enough to want to be touched, or that Muriel was too volatile. Too dangerous to be near. Even if he didn't believe that himself, the sheer determination with which Muriel insisted his guilt was more than enough to stir a sense of worry.

But he waited, his hand held out, waiting for Muriel to either accept or reject him.

Muriel looked back up to him, gaze softening, the tension of his body easing away just a little bit more. There was a moment of hesitant resistance, a resistance that told him he didn't deserve it. He didn't deserve Asra's kindness... and Asra's kindness certainly didn't deserve to be sucked into the mess of Muriel's life.

But... he craved the buzz of Asra's touch. The warmth. The thrum of peace that came from every grace of Asra's fingers. And those feelings were so close... he wanted them so badly.

He'd just have to deal with the guilt later.

Muriel didn't even have to answer. He turned a little more, and then leaned up and into Asra's hand. His eyes settled to a close, head tipping into the warmth of Asra's hand -- feeling as Asra's delicate fingers tucked the strands of his hair behind his ear. Warmth surged in Muriel's chest, easing away at the tightness from before. The breathlessness. The chill of that water in his lungs. 

He couldn't help but want more.

"You can come closer," Muriel nearly whispered. His voice was low and emotionless as always, but somewhere in him he couldn't deny the statement had been a plea of sorts. A beg. "If... if you want to. I guess..."

Asra hadn't even hesitated, complying without waiting to hear if Muriel had more to say. He'd settled on his knees in front of Muriel. His hand brushed Muriel's hair behind his ear before wrapping around his neck. When Muriel didn't tense or reject it, he moved closer and wrapped his other arm around his neck too, arms loose around him as to not make Muriel feel restricted, but tight enough to give a sense of protection and safety. He pressed into Muriel's neck, sighing softly, the soft scent of myrrh ever present. Ever reassuring.

"You're safe," Asra promised him again, slowly moving one hand to begin running through and teasing Muriel's hair, trying to soothe him, hoping that he was helping Muriel. "I'll keep you safe, Muriel."

With Asra pressed against him -- with his warm arms wrapped around his neck, with his breath spilling across the sensitive skin of his throat -- Muriel could let the hand that assured him the collar was gone fall. He slumped forwards, melting into Asra's hug. His head dropped against Asra's shoulder, breaths finally ironing out into long, smoother sighs. Part of him wanted to lift his arms to hold Asra too... but the other part, the louder part, told him he shouldn't have. That he could hurt him...

So his hands rested listlessly at his sides.

"Okay," Muriel didn't know what else to say, "... thank you..."

Asra offered up a smile, still holding Muriel, but slowly breaking away just enough to take Muriel's hands from his sides. He gave them a reassuring kind of squeeze, as if to remind Muriel that he didn't think he could do any harm with them, and settled them on his waist as if to encourage Muriel to reciprocate the hug. Then he wrapped his arms around Muriel again, pressed up close to him.

 

"We can have breakfast in a minute or so, big guy. Are you hungry? If you want, I could take us into town and we could go to Selasi's again? I'm sure he'd love to see Inanna again, and some warm food will do you a world of good. That and a hot chocolate." Asra didn't move, though, making no attempt to commence his plan of action. He wanted to stay like this with Muriel for as long as possible, until the grumbling of his stomach gave him a reason to pull away. He didn't want to leave his side for any other reason.

Muriel stiffened just the slightest bit when he felt his hands touch Asra's waist, but at the casual confidence to Asra's voice — the lack of fear in him and his hands — Muriel felt his system relax. He might have even wanted to pull Asra closer... for just a moment or so. He didn't, of course. The hold on Asra's waist was enough. But that didn't mean he didn't think about it.

"Selasi's is fine," he mumbled. "Inanna would like to go there... but... isn't it early?"

The sun hadn't quite been up yet, the sky on the edge of sunrise. Muriel could see it in the way the stars dimmed and how the atmosphere of the forest around them seemed to lift. He opened up his eyes, flicking his gaze over to the water, head still pressed against Asra's shoulder.

"We could... watch the sunrise, I guess. If you want to."

Asra smiled softly, pulling back just enough to look at Muriel, still running his fingers through his hair. "It'll take us a while to get there and Selasi's opens quite early, but until then we can kick back and watch the sunrise. Then we'll pack up and head off- is that alright for a plan?"

He finally, though reluctant, broke away from the embrace to sit beside Muriel instead, wrapping one arm around him and leaning heavily against him. He was tempted to just close his eyes and sink into Muriel, to let everything else fade away so he could fixate on the comforting warmth and how it felt to be close to Muriel, but he rarely got to watch the sunrise and the way Muriel had offered for them to do it had been too tempting for him to refuse.

He'd love to watch the sunrise with Muriel any day.

"We can watch the sunrise for now, though. We'll figure everything else out afterwards."

Muriel nodded, turning to face out to the lake again. Asra was very close -- pressed up against him even more so than he had been those few nights ago in his apartment. But... somehow... Muriel didn't feel himself objecting it. He didn't feel himself tense. He felt the warmth seep into his system, his heartbeat finally slowing -- matching Asra's beside them as he watched the soft orange glow leap across the ripples of the lake.

As the sun rose and the light of the forest changed, Muriel couldn't help but feel an odd sort of... lightness in his chest. The weight wasn't there. Or at least it wasn't as heavy. The lead ball pressed against his lungs and his ribs -- it had lessened somehow. It was a rare feeling of his, lightness. One especially rare after a nightmare...

He couldn't figure out what it had been.

It wasn't the serenity of the forest, really. As nice as it was -- the white noise, the colors of the sky, the fresh breeze of air that brushed over and calmed the tremor of his muscles -- it couldn't be it. Perhaps it was Asra and his magic? That didn't quite feel right, though... He'd been around Asra and his pleasant buzz long enough to recognize what it felt like, and that lightness wasn't it. It was something more natural. It was something relieving...

"I let you come closer," Muriel murmured aloud, the epiphany hitting him too suddenly to keep it to himself. "And you... waited until I said you could. I... trusted you." He blinked, a soft blush crossing his features. Muriel looked over to Asra, brow furrowing. "I don't... I never really trusted anyone before."

Asra looked over at Muriel, frowning softly as he looked up at him.  
"Never?" he asked, voice quiet. "I... I couldn't imagine just not trusting anyone, Muri. I put a lot of trust in you every day. I even trust Julian sometimes, and he's on thin ice with all the reasons he's given me not to trust him."

His hand found Muriel's, settling on his hand gently. He squeezed it softly. "I'm glad you trust me, though. I'm happy to hear it."

His eyes drifted back to the sky, the sun still rising slowly up over the horizon, casting gorgeous golden light onto the lake in front of them and sighing as he moved just a little closer to Muriel, learning into the warmth, learning just a little further into the comfort and safety that he'd associated with Muriel and that soft scent of myrrh.

"Are you feeling okay? You don't mind this place, do you? From falling in the lake and having a night terror... I don't want this place to be ruined for you."

Muriel looked up quickly, shaking his head. "No-... it's not ruined. It's fine..." His face was still red when he looked back down to the ground, brow guiltily furrowed over his averted eyes. "Nothing's ruined. We can come back here... maybe not for swimming, but-... you know."

He leaned up a little, clearing his throat and gruffening up his tone. "The sunrise is nice," he mumbled, looking back up at the ripples of the lake and the colored lights of the sun bursting through the silhouettes of the trees. "It's... beautiful, I guess."

"Yeah, it is" Asra agreed, though his gaze was still fixed on Muriel, the way that the sunlight accented his features, the way that his soft gaze admired the golden colours and how his eyes shined. The little smile that tugged at Muriel's lips was possibly the most beautiful thing that he'd seen before- right next to the way Muriel's eyes lit up and the wide smile that graced his lips when he laughed.

Clearing his throat a little, deciding to focus on the sunset so Muriel wouldn't notice his red-faced staring, Asra decided to speak again.

"I'll invite you out here again as soon as I can. Would you like that?" He didn't even want to wait for an answer, knowing that Muriel would accept- or hoping, at least. "But for now... we should get ready to go. We need to get back sometime, as much as I hate to."

Muriel nodded. "I guess I wouldn't mind that. Coming back here, I mean," he mumbled, despite already admitting he wanted to come back.

Before Asra could answer, his phone buzzed in his pocket and he sighed, taking it out even if it meant pulling his hand from Muriel's. It was his work phone, so he kept it hidden from Muriel's view as he read Lucio's message telling him he was expected to turn up to work that day. He didn't respond, tucking his phone back into his pocket and shifting closer to Muriel.

"It was work," he explained to avoid being asked. "I gotta go in today. I'm not usually told to come in so something's probably happened, but... I'll... I'll deal with it whenever. As long as I'm in before noon it'll be fine."

He pushed himself to his feet, offering out his hands for Muriel to pull himself up with.

"Come on, let's go get some breakfast."

Muriel gave Asra a high brow at the offer of his hands. Asra responded with a laugh and a wiggle of his fingers, but Muriel shook his head a little and pushed off the ground himself. He felt a little shakier standing up, but Inanna's supportive sniff and lick of his hand was enough to keep him steady as he lifted his gaze and dragged it along their camp site. He gave a soft sigh, spotting his clothes from the night before. Muriel then looked down at himself. Muriel supposed Selasi wouldn't mind sweatpants and a nightshirt.

"Are you sure you'll have time?" he asked hesitantly. "You shouldn't be late..."

"It's more than fine," Asra assured him, taking Muriel's hand now that they were on his feet, moving a little closer to him. "Let's just get there quick. The sooner we get there, the sooner I get to work, but I would happily be late if it meant having breakfast with you."

He held out one hand and the basket zipped through the air, settling into his palm, opening and allowing the blankets to slot into it one after the other, filtering in and slowly making the basket heavier and heavier. Without all the food inside, though, it was far lighter than when they came and Asra didn't even need to use magic to be able to carry it.

From there, it was a fifteen minute walk through the forest. Asra didn't let go of Muriel's hand and, as he'd done on the journey there, provided him and Inanna with the bridge over the nettles before following back after. Faust was curled up about his wrist as he took Muriel's hand again, happily stringing herself between Asra and Muriel's wrists as if to keep them from pulling away from each other. Asra didn't mind, turning and looking out for the flash of blue that would indicate to where his car was parked.

He threw the basket into the back, the only thing inside of it being the blankets so he didn't need to worry about breaking plates. Keeping the door open, he let Inanna hop in. From there, he pulled open the passenger side door and gestured for Muriel to get into the car while he walked around to get into the drivers side. He sat down, pulling the door shut and glancing over to Muriel.

"Hey," he said softly, a little smile on his lips. He'd noticed something had been a little off with Muriel- not just the nightmare, he could see something else weighing down on his mind, and he'd been wanting to ask about it since they'd left to come here. "Are you sure you're alright? If you want to stay out here for a little longer, I can skip work. We don't have to go back to South End just yet. You just... seem worried."

Muriel blinked, looking up at Asra for a moment before averting his eyes rather quickly to where they had come from.

"I... no. I mean- yes. Yes, I'm okay." He blushed a little lifting his shoulders up a bit higher. "I don't want you to skip work for me. It's fine. I'm fine."

Asra didn't shift the gear. Muriel could feel his eyes on him -- he could see the worried furrow of Asra's brow from just his peripherals alone. The thought incited guilt... which just piled the feeling further up his chest, adding to the mass of shame he'd built up the whole walk to the car.

The slight burn of guilt had begun to brew the first few moments of silence into their walk through the woods. Why? Muriel didn't quite know. He could feel himself clinging to all the lies and the secrets he'd been keeping from Asra... and he supposed after experiencing such relief when he finally trusted Asra -- after such a weight had been lifted off of his chest and shoulders -- Muriel could feel the shame of everything else he kept to himself a bit more prominently. The secrets tasted so much worse kept behind his lips. And... my, there were so many of them.

It was almost like he had taken one step forward towards relief, and then two steps promptly back.

"But... wait. No. I... I actually have something to tell you."

Why did he say that?

What did he plan on following up with?

Even Inanna seemed a bit wary, her ears perking as she lifted her head up from the back seat, head cocked, chew toy dropping from her jaws.

Asra's brow furrowed, though now out of confusion instead of worry. Where was this coming from? Was there a reason why Muriel had been hiding something from him? He moved his hand to Muriel's, gently settling it there and pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles.

 

"You can tell me anything," he assured Muriel, his voice soft and tender as if to ensure that Muriel had faith in him. He just wanted to be sure that if Muriel was going to tell him anything, it would be out of trust and not because he felt like he had to be nice. "If you want me to, you can tell me."

He held tighter to Muriel's hand for a moment, squeezing it reassuringly, looking up at him with those soft and worried eyes.

Muriel frowned, regret slowly coiling its way around his stomach. He didn't know what to say -- he didn't even know if he wanted to say anything. And even if he did, what would he lead with? His chest of secrets was too deep, too vast and too... painful to reach into. He'd have to only breach the surface and pluck up the first one his fingers grazed -- to just shut his eyes and find something to say.

"I... I lied about..."

About what, Muriel? About everything?

"About who broke into my apartment," he blurted, the words falling past his lips without warning. Muriel snapped his eyes closed, feeling the aftershock of his truth thrum through his body. He had to think of the positive -- there were much worse secrets he could have unbottled.

Secrets he'd have another day to carry.

Without another beat, Muriel continued, eyes still closed. "I... I didn't tell you because I didn't want to drag you into it," he said quietly. "But it wasn't some random break in. It was that guy. The one who dropped off his car and asked for you. He... he left a note. Said I deserved it because..."

He trailed off, stopping.

"He just said I deserved it. And he's not wrong." Muriel looked up at Asra, finally fluttering open his tired eyes. "I just wanted to tell you because... I don't want him going after you or-... I don't know. I should have told you sooner. I'm... I'm sorry."

"The one with the bandages?" Asra asked in a heartbeat, taking Muriel's hand a little tighter and looking at him now with concern, not with confusion or worry. Concern.

If it was that man...

Anger was already burning in his stomach, surging through his veins and sending fire through body. If it was that man...

Muriel nodded slowly, flicking his eyes away from Asra.

Asra grit his teeth

If it was that man, all hell was going to be unleashed the second that he was away from Muriel.

"It's not important. Trust me- I'm not going to get involved. Thank you for telling me, though." He took his hand, pressing a soft kiss to Muriel's knuckles and glancing up at him. "You didn't deserve what happened. On the bright side, though, you got a new fridge, a new bed, and a beautiful bunch of flowers out of it. That was what you deserved- some new stuff. You deserve comfort, not just whatever you can get ahold of."

He pulled his hand back after giving his hand one last squeeze, starting up the car and beginning to pull back out of the spot he'd parked in, beginning to manoeuvre out of the forest. He soon turned the car around in a small break, void of trees, and began toward those dirt roads. It would be a long drive back, especially with early morning traffic, but he had all the time in the world when he was with Muriel.

And he already knew what he was going to do when he wasn't with Muriel. The second that he wasn't with him, he was going to find that man.

When it was a job for Lucio it didn't matter as much. Now?

Now he had hell to unleash.

Muriel decided not to answer for a good moment or so, turning around in his seat and looking out the window as Asra began the drive forwards. His heart was still racing in his chest from before, and a slight paranoia seemed to coil its way about his chest... but that relief from before was there. The one that he had craved. Muriel let the lightness of it all settle, figuring he would have to speak up again soon so he didn't try to chase that relief again and blurt a worse secret.

He seriously doubted Asra would grip his hand and tell him he deserved comfort if Muriel let his alter ego slip.

"You're sure you don't know him?" Muriel asked quietly, still looking out the window. "The guy, I mean. He seems to know you... he seems to not like you, either. Aren't you worried he'll... I don't know... hurt you?"

"Him? Hurt me?" Asra asked, shaking his head. "No, not at all. I can handle myself, Muri, don't you worry. And I don't know him personally, no, but... evidently he knows me enough to do something like that. I'll deal with it."

His hand settled on Muriel's thigh after a moment, his gaze fixed on the road. He was doing a good job at keeping himself calm for Muriel's sake- he was livid, just thinking about the danger that that man had put Muriel in, about the risk he'd been at. He didn't care what kind of a vendetta he'd had with that man- the second that he'd brought Muriel into it, that was when he'd doomed himself.

"It's fine, Muriel, trust me. I know how to handle myself. Let's just get you home."


	14. Breaking Bones

"Damn, Eden. If I were you, I'd already be halfway around the world by now. What the hell are you doing in Vesuvia?"

The bartender had been wrapping the second layer of gauze round Eden's hands, the grip of the medical linen tight and pinching against his wounds. He cringed, sucking in a thin breath of air through his teeth as the bartender worked around his palms and up his forearms. He'd been coming to her for years to get patched up after fights or after getting into situations such as the one he was in just then -- and every time, she had the same lecture.

Eden shrugged his shoulders. "Had to get some revenge first" he said, a slick smile curling up his lips. "Came to you for another quick check up, then I'm going back to the police for one last little chore, and then I'll get the hell out of dodge."

The bartender shook her head, clucking her tongue. "And some cash from shady police officers is worth staying in the radar of one of the biggest mafias this country has ever seen? You're delusional, Eden."

"Not just cash," Eden argued, his smirk gloating and prideful. "I've also weaseled my way out of pretty much every charge this damn department has ever filed me under. I'll be leaving Vesuvia a free man."

"A free man with holes in his hands."

Eden slumped his shoulders and cocked his brow, smile turning into a frown. "I didn't think they'd catch me," he grumbled. "But it's fine. I already made sure Asra paid for what he did, and then as soon as I get to Julian's sister and screw with her, he'll get the memo too. Neither of them are going to bother me again -- I'm making sure of it."

The bartender didn't answer. Instead, she leaned back, dropping Eden's hands and turning around where she stood to put the first aid kit back on the wall. Eden sighed and leaned back in his bar stool, smiling again as he looked down at his hands. They still ached -- considerably so -- however, with the bartender's medical help and Eden's caution, they hadn't gotten infected, and they were healing.

"Well, you better get going," the bartender said, turning back around. She wiped her hands off on her thighs, and reached for a bottle of whiskey behind the bar. Eden watched her pour two glasses, down one of them in a single gulp, and push the other his way. "Take care of your business and get as far away from Vesuvia as you can, boy. Don't come back until you know the Count's forgotten about you."

Eden scoffed, standing up from the bar stool. He picked up his glass of whiskey, careful with his hand, and took one mighty gulp of it. Eden winced at the fire that traced down his throat and burned in his chest, but he set the glass upside down on the bar and nodded his head.

"Don't think I'm coming back," he said with a sigh. "I'm afraid this is the last time you'll see me. If you cry enough, I'll think to write."

The bartender made a face. "What if they're tears of joy?" she asked flatly, plucking up his dirty glass and setting it to the side.

Eden put a hand on his heart, feigning shock as he scooped up his jacket. "That hurt." He shook his head a little, spinning on his heel and making his way for the door. "Goodbye, love! Thanks for everything!"

"Goodbye, Eden," the bartender sighed. She waited until Eden had made his way to the door, his bandaged hand just gracing the doorknob, before she called out again -- voice more serious. Genuine. "Be careful. If not for your own sake, for mine."

A smirk split across Eden's bruised face. He turned to look over his shoulder, and offered a charming wink. "Of course," he said with a simple nod of his head. "I do everything for your sake."

The bartender groaned, and Eden laughed -- turning back around and leaving out the door before he could hear her tell him she had a boyfriend again. The door clapped to a close behind him, and he was soon alone in the dark parking lot behind his favorite bar. It was well past closing, so all of the regulars had been long gone. The only thing to keep Eden company as he stepped across the pavement of the lot had been the flickering streetlight that casted an amber glow over his car.

Eden made his way to the car, and leaned up against its hood rather than slipping inside of it. He had already pulled on his coat, his hands patting the pockets for his cigarette box. Eden slipped out a cigarette, lit it, and took a nice, long drag -- the smoke curling up into the amber light of the street lamp above. He couldn't quite tell if he'd rather get everything done with Julian's sister that night and blow town the next day, or just push it all off until later so he could relax some before leaving. Perhaps take the time to pack. Eden was already leaning towards the second option as he brought the cigarette to his lips for another drag.

Asra had traced him with ease. It was effort he'd never dare waste on Lucio, but the second that this man had crossed the threshold of personal from professional was the second he'd given Asra reason to hunt him down. The second that he'd dragged Muriel into this was the second that he'd dug his own grave.

A little lingering magical energy had been all that was needed, and with one little splotch of dried blood he'd been able to get enough residual magic to complete the spell. Blood magic was dangerous, but Asra was far worse. One little taster of that residual magic and the next thing he knew, he'd been led to this disgusting, remote little bar. A small investigation and a glance through the window had proved his theory, and he'd recognised the car from the first time he'd caught Eden.

He was hiding just out of range of the amber streetlight. His masking spell would keep him adequately covered even if he'd been stood beneath the light, in plain sight, but he stuck to the wall for now. It was only when he'd seen the cigarette being lit that he'd realised Eden was resting for a while, that he didn't have any other plans that needed to be done urgently. He was vulnerable. He was unsuspecting. He was the perfect victim.

So Asra struck.

He took a few paces forward and swept a rock up off the floor, watching the shadow beneath it disappear the second that it was in his hand, successfully masked by his cloaking magic. He threw it- a gentle underarm toss, just sending it a few paces forward. Far enough and hard enough for it to clatter as if it had been kicked, but it was close by him. Close enough for Asra not to need to rush or take more than a couple steps to reach Eden.

So he dug one hand into his pocket, watching as the skittering rock worked as a diversion, and he pulled out a needle full of a clear fluid. It glimmered slightly in the light where it was infused with his magic, but to the untrained eye it looked like nothing but water. Removing the cap over the needle, Asra pressed on the syringe until a little fluid came out, ensuring that there wouldn't be any oxygen being pushed into Eden's blood and causing damage. Just the drugs. From there, it would be smooth sailing- he'd use Eden's keys to take his car, leave him tied in the trunk, and drive to Lucio's. He'd turn him in, take his praise, and then get revenge for the hell that this fucker had put Muriel through.

Simple.

For now, though, he just had to focus on step one of the plan: getting the needle into his neck.

Eden blinked, looking down at the ground where the skitter of that stone had sounded. He blew the smoke from his lips, not bothering to watch as he leaned off of his car, eyes narrowed as he leaned up and looked around. His nerves had spiked, eyes narrowed as he combed them through the darkness that surrounded him and the amber streetlight.

"Hello?" he called into the empty shadow.

Nothing answered him.

Eden cast a nervous glance towards the car, but then shrugged his shoulders. He reached for his pants pocket, slipping out his phone and clicking the flashlight on. The dim glow of white from his phone did little against the night -- which was, in fact, a bit unsettling -- but Eden used it anyways, dragging the light across the ground until his eyes met the body of the stone a few feet from his car. He furrowed his brow and cocked his head, looking up again as he stepped towards the little rock.

"Anybody there?" he asked the quiet parking lot, tone just on the edge of threatening.

He was two paces away. Asra hadn't hesitated, adrenaline pumping through his veins at the thought alone of the revenge he could get. He held the syringe in one hand and shed the cloaking spell. This man was tall. Not quite as tall as Muriel, but Asra was just about shoulder height for him. Eden had a full head extra on him, but Asra wasn't going to let that stop him. He'd taken Julian out in several instances at the bar, he was pretty sure he could handle someone who wasn't just distracted, but injured.

His shadow appeared behind Eden as the spell wore off and instantly he drove his knee into the back of Eden's, knocking him off of his balance and hooking an arm around his throat. He'd done this drill a thousand times by now, surely. All it took was for him to slide the needle into his skin- smooth and accurate while the fear had temporarily paralysed his opponent, and he didn't waste a second before injecting the full syringe.

In a second, he'd pulled the needle back out and held it at his side, tightening his arm around Eden's throat and pulling him closer still, not letting him get his feet beneath it.

"I hope your visit was worth it," he muttered into his ear, voice dark- almost unfamiliarly so. He hadn't felt such rage in a long time, and he was going to take great joy in letting his anger out. He had all night. In fact, he hadn't made any plans with Muriel for a while, so he had as long as he needed to make this man regret everything. "Muriel gave me your kindest regards, and I thought I'd return the favour."

Eden didn't even have time to cry out -- it all happened too fast. The pinch of the needle. The dark words muttered into his ear, breath tickling his neck, arm wrapped around his throat. All he could do was groan out an incoherent slur of sorts before his body began to crumple. Before blood roared in his ears and the corners of his vision crept with the black veils of unconsciousness.

His knees hit the paved parking lot, eyes rolling up into his head as a clumsy hand patted at the arm against his throat. It wasn't long until Eden's body sagged, his fingers twitching in their loose grip before his arm fell listless at his side, bandaged hand limp -- his knuckles skimming the pavement. His vision went black, his jaw fell slack, and his body slumped against Asra's. Two more twitches, and Eden was still. Completely unconscious.

With the magic flushing through his arms to give him strength, Asra was able to support Eden's weight. He dragged him over to the car, digging about in his pockets for keys and unlocking the trunk of the car, pushing it open. He threw Eden down into it, stuffing his limbs in as best as he could. That was the problem with his trunk already being so full of things- it meant that Asra wasn't able to fit his body in the back conveniently, and at times like this it would have been greatly appreciated if he'd managed to do exactly that.

Regardless, he'd slammed the trunk closed after a few moments and turned to look back at the bar.

Perhaps just one drink wouldn't hurt. There was something that he needed to do, anyway, so just a brief visit was all that he really needed.

And, locking the car again before beginning across the road to that pathetic little tavern, Asra figured that a few minutes of a delay would cause no harm. He only wanted two things, really, and one of those was a drink.

~~~

C'mon.

Get up.

Eden woke up slowly, as if consciousness had been reluctant to pool back into his system -- his senses wary of returning to him. It was the pricks of pain in his neck first, pins and needles pushed into his muscles from the way his head sagged. Next was the chill of the room he'd been in, subtle yet bitter as it crept across his bare skin, trailing gooseflesh in its wake. After that was the headache. Then the taste of copper upon his tongue. Then it was the itch of the ropes used to tie his arms down to the chair he was sitting in.

He woke up slowly.

But the moment he cracked his eyes open, a low groan rising from his lips, Eden knew where he was. What was happening.

He woke up slowly, but the realization had been fast.

Eden lifted his head -- however he instantly regretted it. Pain pulsed its way through his temples, dug deep into his skull. Eden had to blink flashes of red from his eyes before he could see anything in front of him, however, when he could, he collected the facts as quickly as he could.

He was tied to a chair. Shirtless. His bandages were gone -- scabs and scars free for the looking and the prodding. The room was dark. It wasn't the same one he was locked in last time. It was cooler, dimmer. Perhaps lower in the building? Eden noticed there really wasn't anything else in the room but him, his chair, a table by the firmly locked door, and...

Asra stood before him, eyes devoid of light in the darkness of the room. 

"Oh, fuck me," Eden grumbled, letting his head fall again. His mind was swimming -- his words a bit slurred as he spoke. "What, did my little hint not spell it out for you? Didn't learn your lesson, Asra, or do I have to trash your friend's shop too?"

There was silence for a few moments. Uncharacteristic for Asra. He took a few paces forward, looking down at Eden, and swung his fist without a moment of hesitation, without even considering talking first, or threatening him. Only after the harsh impact, the loud and sharp sound that rang out, did Asra take a step back.  
"Don't talk about him," he said, his voice sharp and word's hissed. His hands were wrapped, though he'd done it this time instead of getting Julian's help. He'd even specifically told Lucio not to call Julian- or anyone else- to help him today. He'd even mentioned that there was a more personal sort of vendetta to it now.

If he was grateful for any aspect of Lucio's despicable existence, it was that he understood rivalries and personal drama better than most anyone else would, so he was more willing to put up with Asra's request for the sake of something personal. He hadn't even tried to pry for details, but he'd had a knowing sort of look in his eye.

So Asra would be alone for this, with Ludovico and Bludmila stood outside, but far enough away from the door to not overhear anything. Just standing guard for the worst case scenario.

Eden had escaped once. Never again.

"You've done more than enough damage. You messed with my friend, so I decided to return the favour."

He could see the confusion, the concern, crossing Eden's features and held out his hand, revealing one bloody earring in his hand. One from the bartender that Eden had gotten bandaged up by. The one Asra had later gone in and gotten a drink from. It had been a brief exchange. He'd asked for a drink, he'd been given one, and he'd feigned being heavily intoxicated so he wasn't seen as much more than a strange visitor.

Eden's breath caught. He sat up straight in his chair, eyes wide, lips parted, face paling. He blinked, shook his head, and then looked up into Asra's eyes, teeth grit beneath his snarling lips.

"I swear to God if you even touched her," he whispered, words shaky.

Asra hadn't actually done anything to her, though. The blood was fake, mostly just red food colouring that Asra had spilt on his hands to seal the deal and ensure that it was convincing. His false inebriation had allowed him to compliment the bartenders jewellery and he'd offered her a few notes in exchange for her earrings, showing her his own pierced ears and insisting that he wanted them, that he thought they were cute. Nothing that she'd give too much thought, assuming he was just a drunkard who'd liked her jewellery. Even if it was suspicious, the amount of money he'd given her would keep her quiet about it.

"See? We're even now." He dropped the earring on the floor, stepping on it and crushing it beneath his heel, grinning a little. Eden leaned forwards, eyes round and desperate as they watched the earring crush beneath Asra's shoe. "Almost even. That's revenge for the damage you did to his apartment. What's coming next if what you get for the stress and the trauma that he went through because of you. Now, if you'll look around you, you'd realise that it's just us. I haven't got my partner here today. No distractions. It's just you, me, and whatever tool I want to use."

With a growl, Eden leaned up again, eyes narrowed into slits.

"She was innocent," Eden snarled, muscles flexing beneath the rope as he tugged on his restrained arms. "Your pal got what was fucking coming to him. Just like you're gonna get what's coming to you, you prick."

He didn't mean to let himself get so emotional, but the rage was already building. The anger, the worry. He thrashed in his chair a little, trying hard to tug his arms free from their binds -- but it was no use. Asra, or whoever else had tied them, had secured them tightly round his arms. The rope was tight and strong, and Eden was still woozy from the drug. Any other occasion he'd wait, save his strength until an opportunity arose and he could escape like last time. He'd keep his head cool and his banter playful, snide.

Only all those other times, it had just been him getting hurt. Not her.

"You shouldn't have touched her -- you should have left her out of it. The second I get out of these ropes, I'm killing you," Eden hissed. "And then I'll take the drive all the way to South End and kill your precious car mechanic, too."

That threat was it. That was the cherry on top. That was what made Asra decide that it would be worth it to kill this man even if he didn't get any of the information Lucio wanted from him.

"You're going to regret ever even bringing him into it," Asra spat, swinging a punch again, harder this time. His fist collided with Eden's jaw, sending his head snapping to the side. His hands were crackling with energy, white sparks like electricity curling up about his hands, flashing and flickering. His anger only rarely got the better of him, and at times like these all he could think of doing was hurting this man. Rage-fuelled adrenaline pumped through his veins.

And though he couldn't see his own appearance, Eden was getting the perfect view of a magician pushed over his edge. Asra was famed for his violence and power by everyone who knew this side of his life. 'The magician was dangerous', the rumours said, 'the magician has killed thousands in a second', they whispered. It was why Asra didn't use his magic for much aside from little domesticities, like keeping his tea warm or keeping a dozen blankets in a tiny basket.

But then there were times like these, where he was emotional. Too emotional. Irrational, volatile. Moments where the electric energy crackled all around him, leaving a fizzling tension in the air, making his clothes and his hair flutter in the swirling wind that overtook the room. Where the veins on his arms were lit up with the magic energy that poured through them, and his eyes had the same unsettling kind of glow.

"You're going to regret ever bringing Muriel into it," he snarled, though his words came out loud and booming around the room.

He thrust out his hands, streams of crackling and violent energy coursing through his fingertips and through the air in a blindingly brilliant display of raw energy. The second that even the brush of energy touched Eden, the pain was overwhelming. A searing hot agony that simultaneously burned and filled his body with an unimaginable cold, as if he'd been set on fire and plunged into the arctic ocean at once.

The magic poured from Asra's hands with ease, flowing from his fingertips. He didn't hesitate. He didn't falter. Even as screams filled the room and bounced off of the walls, screams that he was sure would be heard all throughout the building even with the soundproofing of the walls.

Eden writhed in his chair, entire body rigid as the magic ripped through his nerves -- his vision going white. Even after Asra drew the power back and the magic stopped, Eden still screamed. It took a moment for the magic to seep from his system, for his taut muscles to relax, but when it did, Eden slumped forward in his chair. He'd been trembling, eyes clenched shut. Eden's whole body racked with shudders, muscles seizing as the feelings of that electric magic faded.

Already his composure was faltering -- and it was all due to that shattered earring on the floor, the colors and shards dancing before his blurry eyes as his vision split and wavered. Eden grit his teeth, offering a weak growl as he wriggled in the ropes. Still, they held tight.

If he had magic he could break free. Even a drop of power, and he could have snapped the ropes and gotten away.

"Fuck..." he managed to whimper out, his breath heavy and ragged as it spilled past his lips. "God... fuck you... I'll kill you."

"Yeah, you'd love to get the chance," Asra spat, curling his lip in a snarl as he snatched up a knife from the table beside him. He wasn't going to waste his magic torturing him. Not until he'd cut him enough for the magic to seep into every tear into his flesh, every cut, every single mark, and amplify the pain.

He held the knife to the light for a moment, watching it catch. It was sharp. Well-balanced. It'd do, he supposed as he moved it to Eden's head, using it to tip his chin up.  
"There's information Lucio still wants. I've got days that I could spend here, doing nothing but cutting you and slashing you. I could keep you alive through things anybody else would die from and it wouldn't give the slightest strain to my magic. I could keep you alive but so, so close to death that you'll be begging for it. I want information, and then I might be merciful enough to let you die."

Muriel would hate to see him like this. Guilt tugged at him or even thinking of Muriel while he was doing something so brutal, but he had to do this. He had to get revenge and he was just lucky that this revenge would tie into work. Then he'd get a bonus- either a gift, or money, or both- and then he could give his money to Muriel to help him with the debt. Helping Muriel would make this more than worth it, anyway. Muriel would definitely hate how he earned his money, but Muriel needed it. It would balance out.

He waited until Eden was looking at him before moving the knife, pressing it into Eden's chest, just digging the tip of the blade into his flesh for now. "I'll ask now, just to be nice. Are you going to tell me what I want to know?"

Eden's breath hitched, the bite of the knife slicing into the muscle of his chest with a harsh sort of sting. He kept his eyes averted from Asra, nonetheless. Emotional or not, Eden knew how torture worked -- he knew how interviews such as this worked. He wouldn't budge. He wouldn't break. He'd been through it all before.

"I'll tell you one thing," he growled, breath still shaky as it huffed out between his gritted teeth. "I'll tell you to go fuck yourself. You're not gettin' anything from me. 'Specially not after hurting my friend."

There was no blood in his mouth, so his next move lost some of its usual effect -- but Eden did it anyways. He spat at Asra's feet, flicking his narrowed eyes up to Asra's own wide ones. There was a snarl in his words when he spoke again.

"You're not getting anything from me," he repeated, his stare digging daggers into Asra's eyes.

"I'm not?" he asked, taking a step closer, digging the knife in deeper and beginning to drag it down lower, digging it in deeper and deeper as he dragged it nice and slow. Eden gave a shout -- his eyes snapping shut. "Thank god, I was hoping you'd give me more reason to hurt you."

A steady stream of blood was bubbling up around the dagger, beginning to dribble in a wobbling sort of line- one Asra happily began to follow until he was digging the blade in dangerously deep. Then, slowly, he pulled it out again, taking a cloth and cleaning off the blade.

Eden let his head fall again, his breath leaving him in gentle whimpers and growls. The blood was hot as it spilled down his skin, trickling down to the waist of his jeans and pooling there -- soddening the fabric.

"What do you think we should do now? I've got a nice variety of tools... I'm spoiled for choice, and I want to do so much. We do have time, of course, but your reactions will be best now- while you're awake, alert, and your tolerance hasn't been raised just yet."

He moved over to the table, admiring the nice tools that he had available. This was going to be a long night for one of them.

Asra would be loving every single second.

~~~

A day and a half had passed, and Eden had spilled just about everything Asra wanted to know.

It was hard getting him to break -- harder than most people Asra had to work secrets from -- but Asra's anger combined with Eden's already broken facade had done the trick after about twelve hours of slicing and bruising and bursts of dark magic that tore through Even's nerves. Eden choked out his first plea for mercy around the fifth hour of torture. His sobs began around the tenth hour. Asra had properly cracked him open -- broken his spirit and his strength -- at the twelve hour.

Then it was just a matter of squeezing the information out of him, deciphering whatever names and addresses he could through Eden's heavy sobs and broken whimpers.

"Th-that's it," Eden managed to blubber, slumped and shaking in his chair. His voice was frail and cracked, rasped from all of his screaming, breathless from all of his crying. His face was a sick sort of pale from the bloodloss, his skin hot with fever, his body racking with the occasional seizing and shuddering from the fits of leftover magic that coursed through him. "That's all I know. Those are all the names I know. I'm done... I-... I'm done."

"You are? Oh, that's a relief," Asra said, dropping the scalpel he'd been using to pry Eden's nails off, smiling a little as he leant back. He'd only taken a few breaks in the last few days- one or two to shower, and then he'd stopped a few more times to eat. He'd stayed in the room to eat, though, watching as Eden- who hadn't had anything to eat or drink- watched him with those wide and silently pleading eyes. Asra hadn't spared a crumb for him, but he'd made sure to enjoy every last bite simply because Eden couldn't.

 

"It would be so nice if I was done too, wouldn't it? Maybe then we could leave it at this. I'd kill you, and leave someone else to deal with the mess you made. Then we'd go our separate ways- me, I'd go back home, shower, and I'd get high as a kite. You, you'd go to the nearest crematorium with a couple thousand bucks to make sure that you were kept under the radar while you were burned. Doesn't that sound nice? It would be for me." He picked up another blade, twirling it around his fingers, humming a little to himself. He'd had a Taylor Swift song stuck in his head for the last three hours now, and when he went home he was going to be blaring it through his car speakers. Then he'd invite Muriel out to dinner- somewhere romantic but expensive. He'd rent out the whole restaurant and let Muriel choose where they sat, insisting that it was just a coincidence that it was all empty.

Maybe then he'd pop the question and ask Muriel to be his boyfriend. Well... perhaps not his boyfriend, but definitely something more to him. And he couldn't deny that he had feelings for Muriel by now. He felt so light around him and just thinking about that night at the lake had given him butterflies.

That's why Eden's decision to target Muriel had enraged him so greatly.

"It's too bad that that's going to have to wait. You see, if you'd never decided to break into Muriel's house, I would never have hunted you down. I would never have decided to put you through this. You could have left Vesuvia, unharmed, but instead you decided to get some revenge for a short thrill. Was it worth it, Eden? Was it worth all of this?" He took a step forward, grabbing Eden's hair and pulling his hair up, forcing the man to look at him.

Eden cried out, his eyes pinching closed tight, his whole body doubling in the severity of his shivers. A few strained whimpers left his lips, brow drawing together as he tried to pull away. He was weak, body listless and helpless against Asra's strong grip. All he could do was sag against the fist in his hair, the whimpers tight as they bubbled past his lips.

"No," he sobbed. "No it wasn't... please... please just stop."

"No, it really wasn't. And I thought you would have known better than to meddle around with my personal life. You know who I am, don't you?" He watched the shaking sort of nod that Eden gave. "And it really wasn't worth doing it. Not for this. It's been thirty-two hours since I first brought you here. It took you, what, fifteen minutes? Fifteen minutes to trash Muriel's apartment. You could have put him in so much danger. He came to me about it in the middle of the night after work. You think that he wanted to come home from work to see his apartment trashed? You think he wanted to come to me, crying, knowing that his money had been stolen and that he could barely feed himself without my help?"

He wasn't going to let any details about Lucio's debt slip. He didn't know what Eden knew about Muriel, and he wasn't going to breathe a word about Muriel's connection to Lucio.

"You shouldn't have done it, Eden. If you'd left him out of it, then you wouldn't be in this situation."

Eden shook his head, his whole body shaking with sobs. "I wasn't gonna do it," he whined between the raspy huffs and puffs of his gasps. "I w-wasn't I really wasn't -- I swear. B-but then I found out who he was and what he did... who he hurt-"

"Shut up!" Asra snapped, taking a step forward and throwing a punch, hitting Eden in the stomach- in a place on his stomach that was already splotchy with black and blue bruises. Muriel wouldn't hurt anyone. He wasn't going to believe that Eden could have learned anything about his precious Muriel that could have antagonised him. Muriel was soft and sweet, he'd never have hurt anyone. "You don't know anything about Muriel! You don't know even the slightest thing about who he is! He could never hurt anyone!"

He took a step or so back, trying to soothe his uneven breathing, trying to calm himself down. Muriel was his soft spot, it would seem. Thank god that Eden was too weak to take advantage of it right now, god knows what he could have done if he had his strength.

Eden had crumpled over, coughing and gasping as he tried to gather a breath. He had started blubbering up an apology the moment he could get a gulp of air in, but he found himself falling silent as Asra's shouting. It took a moment or so for the words to click -- for them to make sense past the ringing and roaring of Eden's ears -- but when they did, he looked up at Asra with wide, nervous eyes. Well... eye actually. The other had been nearly swollen shut from a bruise.

"You don't know?" he whispered, his dry throat clicking when he swallowed. "Y-you don't... you don't know who he is?"

"Stop talking," Asra hissed through his teeth, taking another step forward. He glanced back behind him and took a knife from the table, pointing it at Eden. "Shut up, or I swear to god I'm going to cut out your tongue!" He took another step toward him, grabbing his hair again and pulling his head up by his hair, tipping his head back.

Eden shook his head, brow furrowing over his concerned eyes. "N-no, Asra- you have to stay away from him," he spluttered. He didn't stop shaking his head. "He's dangerous. He's nothing but-but a ruthless brute! Haven't you heard the stories? Haven't you heard of the Sc-?"

Asra grit his teeth, driving the knife into his abdomen without a second of hesitation. He left it in, preventing the risk of Eden bleeding out, and took a couple of steps back. His breathing was uneven, his eyes narrowed with anger as he turned back to the table behind him. The prongs on the table were typically used to hold eyes open when gouging them out, but Asra was going to use them for something different. His threats weren't empty, he'd make sure that Eden knew that much.

"I told you to shut up!" He roared, approaching him again and slamming Eden's head into the back of the chair, against the headrest. "Just listen to me for once, and shut up!"

Eden had cried out, cutting himself off with his own shout at the stab of the knife into his gut. He groaned, whimpering, eyes rolling back out of pain as he felt Asra's hand curl into a fist about his hair. He tried to shake his head, his whole body trembling beneath the looming shadow of Asra leaned over him.

"Ngh-... no... you have to listen to m-"

Asra grabbed Eden's jaw, pulling his mouth open.

"I told you," he muttered as the prongs clamped around his tongue, needles that had been fixed to the prongs digging into his flesh tightly, meaning that when Asra pulled on the prongs they didn't slide off of Eden's tongue. He pulled it back, out of his mouth. He reached down, tugging the knife from the wound in Eden's abdomen and instantly raising it. He didn't even look to see the fear register on Eden's features before slashing down the blade. In one quick move, barely more than a second, Asra had a severed tongue held in place by those prongs, and an excessive amount of blood was beginning to spill past Eden's lips.

"I told you what would happen if you didn't shut up," he snarled. "I'd say not to talk about Muriel ever again, but that won't be an issue."

Eden screamed, his body falling forward in the chair -- blood splattering across his lap from his parted lips. The taste of iron filled his mouth, hot and slick against his empty mouth and throat. He coughed it all up onto the floor, the thoughts of Muriel and Asra gone -- replaced with the ever present pain that exploded about his whole face. He couldn't breathe, the blood was too thick. He couldn't beg for help. He couldn't even yell again -- just gurgle and cough past the mess in his mouth.

"You'll bleed out soon," Asra murmured, brushing his hands off on himself once he'd dropped the prongs to the floor, the tongue still held firmly by it. "Someone will come in and put you out of your misery anyway, if you don't die before then."

He started to the door, unlocking and opening it. He took a notepad from beside it- the one where he'd written out names and addresses in to give to Lucio- and waved one last goodbye to Eden before pulling the door shut. Neither Ludovico or Bludmila spoke to him as he passed, letting him through to Lucio's room and, a few minutes after, letting him past to get to the elevators.

He was already pulling out his phone and dialling Muriel's number before he'd even gotten to his car, holding the phone to his ear. Faust was still at home and safe, looking after herself for now while Asra dealt with his own drama. And the phone began to ring, tucked away safely between his ear and his shoulder as he settled in behind the wheel, pulling the door shut and starting up the engine. He hoped Muriel would answer. He hadn't been able to talk to Muriel for days by now- not since the lake incident. A couple texts the following day to ensure Muriel was fine and that had been it. Asra needed to hear his voice after what he just did. He needed an anchor to weigh him back down and comfort him as he drove back through empty rural roads.

So he waited, listening to each dial tone while he waited for Muriel to answer.

The phone clicked and Muriel's gruff voice spoke up about five rings in -- it had taken him awhile to scramble out from under the car he'd been working on and rush to the table where his phone had been laying. His voice was just a bit breathless when he spoke into the speaker.

"Asra? Is everything okay?"

Muriel stood up straight and then leaned back against the table, reaching his hand up to wipe the sweat from his brow. It was about midday and painstakingly hot. Muriel's little fan had been spinning like mad where it sat beside Inanna's bed, and the can of cherry cola felt good against his throat with every sip.

"Perfectly fine," he said, though his voice almost felt unfamiliar when he spoke. His voice hadn't been this soft in so long, it was strange. "Just missed you. I wanted to talk to you again."

He leant back in his chair, flicking his indicator and soon turning off onto a different road. He was taking a slightly longer route, sure, but it would be quieter this way. More peaceful. He'd much prefer it down here.

"It's been a while since we last met up. When are you next free? I know a really nice restaurant we could go to, and I just got promised a bigger pay as a bonus this week so I can take you somewhere really nice. Maybe then we could go grocery shopping and I'll get you some new food for your fridge?"

Muriel blushed, looking down to the floor. "I don't need all of that," he mumbled. The food Asra had stocked into his new fridge had been enough for a week, if not two. "The... the restaurant would be fine- if I had the time." Muriel looked out into his parking lot, dragging his gaze along the two other cars waiting in queue after he was done with the first. The owners of the cars sat together and chatted, drinking beers as they waited for Muriel to get done with them all. "I have a lot to do today. And I've got a job scheduled for tomorrow... maybe the day after that?"

He turned to look at Inanna, who lifted her head from the pile of blankets. She offered a tired nod of confirmation, and Muriel leaned back against the table, free hand patting absently for his drink.

"Shouldn't you... be at work?" he asked, taking a quick sip of his cola. "You've been busy. Not-... not that I really noticed or-... whatever." Pink dusted across his face at the slip up. He hadn't spoken to Asra verbally in a few days -- not since the morning by the lake. Not since the near kiss. "You know what I mean."

"Hm? Oh, I was working overnight. I just got out of work. I'm going to get home, shower, and then..." he figured he shouldn't mention that he was going to do drugs. He still wasn't sure how Muriel would feel about that. "I might have a nap. Call me tonight, alright? When you're out of work. We can talk for as long as you want, to make up for how busy I've been."

A smile tugged at his lips as he spoke, his words just slightly teasing Muriel but only ever fondly. He was a little disappointed that he'd need to wait before he could talk to Muriel again, but a call would be nice. He supposed it would have to do, as neither of them had a say in the matter.

"Try not to book any jobs for Friday, okay? I'll get us a table at six. Will that do? And you don't need to worry about there being many people there, I'll make sure that we don't go anywhere that's too loud for your liking."

Muriel furrowed his brow at the idea Asra would want to call, but he nodded his head. "Oh... okay," he murmured, still trying to catch up with Asra. Luckily, Inanna hadn't been so caught up in the idea Asra wanted to call him -- she relayed the time and date for dinner in his head with a tingle of magic that flushed through his system. "Friday. Six o'clock... right. I-..."

He trailed off, furrowing his brow as he looked over to the group of people waiting for their cars. They were nice people -- not regular customers, of course, but nice enough to understand Muriel was the only one working. Apparently they heard from somewhere online Muriel was one of a kind when it came to car mechanics. He didn't have to wonder who could have written such a review.

"I should go. The shops busy," he said bluntly. Muriel leaned up off of the table, setting his cola down. "It's... hot today. Be careful." His lips quirked into the gentlest of smiles at that -- as if he meant it as a joke. "I won't be there to, uh, catch you if you pass out again..."

"I wish you could be," Asra said, though he was only teasing. Well, part of him insisted that he was. "Thanks for your concern though, Muriel. I'll take a cold shower when I get back and keep myself hydrated."

Muriel nodded despite Asra not being able to see him, still flushed bright red. "Mmh," he hummed, free hand playing with the hem of his shirt. "I'll, uh, call you. I guess. Bye."

Asra beamed, his heart warm. "Goodbye, Muriel."

There was a click on the other end, and Muriel's line fell away. Asra, still smiling, reached one hand down away from the wheel to click on his music. That Taylor Swift song from before -- the one that'd been stuck in his head -- blasted through the speakers. Asra nodded his head along to it, thinking about Muriel's voice in his head.

The gentle tone. The cautious joke. The easy smile Asra could just feel in Muriel's voice.

Anything Eden had said about him was gone. Flushed away. Drowned out by the simple little conversation that left Asra's previously cold system so warm.

Muriel just did that to him, he supposed.

Muriel did a lot of things to him.


	15. Is It a Date?

“I only have one job today,” Muriel said into the phone tucked between his ear and his shoulder. “But… I should be done long before six. Don’t worry.” 

Three days had passed, and in those three days talking to Asra over the phone had become a rather regular thing. It came to the point where Muriel would wait for the text asking to call, laying upon his new bed with his phone on the pillow beside his head, eyes flicking to the old screen whenever it would light up or buzz. When he would get the text, and then the awaited call in its wake, they would just… talk. Asra, mostly, with Muriel to listen. He’d come home tired from a hard, profit filled day at the shop, and simply sit cross legged on the bed or at the table with his head in his hand, listening to Asra’s quiet voice through the little speaker. 

It was their first time really talking on the phone in the morning, but still it was… natural. Like routine. As if Muriel had spent every morning of his life prior speaking to Asra over the phone. It felt normal. 

It felt nice. 

Muriel had just gotten himself dressed for the day, his hair still damp from the shower. He poured Inanna’s food into her bowl, the phone balanced on his shoulder. She waited patiently at his side, her tail wagging gently as he stepped back and set the food bowl down. 

“It’s easy. One of my regulars got a new car -- she wants me to look at it. I would have pushed it to Monday but…” Muriel trailed off as he stood up, watching as Inanna happily began to eat her breakfast. “I don’t know. I like her, I guess. She’s nice to me.” 

“It must be nice,” came Asra’s voice a moment later, crackled slightly with the poor speaker quality of Muriel’s old phone. “And it’s not a problem, Muri, trust me. You’ve got all day to do what you want, and if you want to get this job done then you can. Besides, I should probably check in at work too. My boss has something for me for the overnight thing I did? Apparently I’m getting a huge bonus for it.”

Asra liked talking to Muriel. Of course, he’d always liked talking to Muriel, but getting to hear his voice first thing in the morning was special. It made him feel special. It gave him a new reason to wake up early- hearing Muriel’s gruff voice through the phone and getting to talk to him and update him on everything that had gone on in the few hours they’d been apart.

“I’m looking forward to seeing you again, though. Are you going to wear that shirt I got for you? I should start getting you more, you’ve only been wearing the shirt I gave you every time we’ve met up, and I’d like to see you in something different. Maybe treat yourself to a nice shirt? If you need to save money, I can pay you back for it tonight.”

Muriel made a face, flicking his eyes down to look at himself. “What other shirt would I want to wear?” he asked dully, cocking his head. 

Going shopping for clothes hadn’t exactly been his forte. The stores were pricey and crowded -- most times he picked out what fit and he left without another thought. It was how he ended up with so many shirts for bands he didn't even listen to. 

“I guess I could try… you don’t need to pay me, though.” Muriel nodded his head a little, his lips beginning to quirk at their corners. “This week has been… okay.” 

Better than okay, actually. Three days of booked appointments had done rather nicely in terms of his tip jar and his wallet. Most was paid by card, of course -- Muriel had an old machine in his shop just for that -- but a trip to an ATM would transfer it all into the cash he needed. Already, he exceeded a thousand. In fact, he was nearing two thousand. That was more than enough to pay off his payment in the coming week or so -- Muriel, for the first time in awhile, had money to spare. Most would go towards food, of course, as usual. But if Asra asked specifically for Muriel to treat himself…

Maybe he would. 

He leaned back against the counter, looking at the clock on the stove for the time. Muriel wasn’t in any sort of rush. One customer at around twelve in the afternoon -- he’d get maybe forty for looking around the car and the tip combined. He had time for some more conversation.

“Do you have work today?” he asked gruffly, still watching Inanna eat her kibble. 

“Nothing proper, no,” Asra answered, closing his eyes as he held the phone to his ear, focusing on Muriel’s voice. “Aside from my stop-in, I’ll be all clear. Then again… my boss isn’t really specific on when I should or shouldn’t do something, so I could go in for a brief visit and end up being stuck a couple hours. I’ll, uh, text to keep you updated.”

He didn’t think that Lucio would have any other jobs for him after he’d caught Eden, but he never really knew. And if Julian was there, he’d end up having to stop for a short chat either way. He could be there four or five hours if he wasn’t careful, and that was if Julian was only in the mood for a brief chat. He was already sure that he wouldn’t be late for his date with Muriel, but he wanted to make sure that he’d have plenty of time to shower and clean up properly before he went out. He wanted to look his best- though he supposed that he always did for Muriel, even when it wouldn’t matter to him.

“Hey, if you get any more jobs what are you going to do? You’re not the best at saying no to things but I’ve been looking forward to seeing you again and I don’t want anything to come in the way of that.”

Muriel frowned, a dusting of blush crossing his features. “I can say no,” he mumbled defensively, eyes flicking down to the floor. “But everything’s been pushed to Monday. All I have is the one job unless there’s an emergency… but that probably won’t happen.” He was planning on leaving the shop as soon as he was done with his work, anyways. If there was an emergency, his place would be closed. The thought unnerved him but… he supposed he had better things to do. 

Inanna gave a low wuff when she was done with her breakfast, licking at her chops as she stepped back and made her way towards her water. Muriel leaned down and plucked up the food bowl and set it in the sink to wash it out. 

“Inanna’s done eating,” he said. “I’m gonna go.”

“Alright, babe. Have fun at work,” Asra’s voice came, though Muriel could almost hear the amusement in his voice was he hummed out that little pet name. “I’ll see you tonight, alright?”

Muriel’s whole face flushed a deep red. “B-? Don’t- don't call me that!” he spluttered. If it was possible, Muriel’s blush deepened when Asra’s soft laugh giggled from his speaker. 

“Alright, alright. I’ll find something else to call you, then. Remember to keep me updated, okay? I’ll see you tonight, honey bear.”

And the phone clicked without giving Muriel time to refuse the pet name, no doubt giving Asra an excuse to use it as many times as he could get away with it. Babe would make a comeback soon, too, no doubt. If anything was going to kill Muriel, it was definitely going to be Asra’s extensive use of affectionate nicknames. 

And from there, Asra had a lot on his list of things to do. He wasn’t going to shower before work- just in case he was drafted into something- and would instead wait until he got back home before his date with Muriel. He’d need to buy some things, too. Just because Muriel said he had enough food in his fridge didn’t mean that Asra wasn’t going to make sure that he had more than enough groceries. On top of that, he needed to get back and clean up and change into something nice. Then he had to go to the restaurant and ensure that it was empty, prove that he was the one who was paying for the whole restaurant to be rented out for an evening, and then make sure everything was perfectly set up for him and Muriel.

If he could do all of this without running into Julian, there wouldn’t be a single issue with timing. In fact, he’d even have spare time. There were too many moving parts and risks, though. Traffic, jobs, extensive conversations that go nowhere, etcetera. He wouldn’t let anything get in the way of his date with Muriel, though. If he’d insisted that Muriel refuse jobs (or at least push them over a few days) to be on time, then he was going to have to be willing to do so himself.

Muriel had given a low huff when the phone clicked in his ear, his eyes narrowed and averted to the floor as he stuffed it into his back pocket and folded his arms over his chest. His heart had nearly leapt up into his throat at babe. That second name had nearly destroyed him.

“What are you looking at?” Muriel grumbled at Inanna, who had been staring with a cocked head. Her tail thumped against the floor, voice coy as it echoed up in his head. 

‘Honey bear?’

Muriel scowled. He shook his head and turned around, starting for the door. Inanna followed after him with a sort of lightness to her step. He could almost feel her laughing at him the whole way down to the car. 

~~~

“Is that… dog… registered?” 

It took Muriel a moment to realize the meek voice had been speaking to him. He had to turn around to find its source -- and then he had to look down. Instantly, his face fell, eyes narrowing and his brow cocking at the worried stare of the man before him. He had an ID badge on, and the logo of whatever clothing store Muriel had been in sewn to the breast of his shirt. Already, Muriel could see his hand drifting towards the walkie-talkie strapped to his waste. 

A low, bitter sigh left him. 

Muriel really hated shopping. 

“Yeah,” he said gruffly, averting his eyes -- letting his hair and bangs sweep over his face as he turned his head to nod at Inanna. She gave a half hearted wag of her tail and sat down ever so obediently at Muriel’s side. “She’s my familiar.” 

The man made a face, but instantly tamed his features the moment he flicked his gaze back up to Muriel. “It isn’t wearing its tags?” he asked. Muriel noted that his hand was still on the walkie-talkie, his fingers slowly moving to unclasp it from its holster. 

Muriel frowned. “She doesn’t wear a collar,” he grumbled, voice a bit firmer on the word ‘she’. He turned away, nodding his head towards the exit. “I’ll just go to another store.” Which was a shame, really. The one he was in had been affordable and carried shirts that fit him -- not to mention it was the third he had forced himself to browse. Muriel had gone all the way to the city to find a shirt to please Asra, keeping to the outskirts of the more popular areas where the shops were smaller and cheaper. 

“Yeah, maybe, uh, that’d be best,” the voice chirped up from behind him. “Coming here without a tagged familiar was probably a… mistake.”

Muriel steps faltered, muscles tensing as that last quiet word left the man’s lips and curled up around his frozen body. It echoed in his head. Mistake. It relayed itself for him over and over, low and taunting as it faded away into nothing but a numb sort of ache. It wasn’t until the man behind him cleared his throat when Muriel was startled back into reality, a slight cringe wrinkling his nose before he shook his head and started his way out of the store. Inanna trailed guiltily behind him, her head ducked, her tail low. 

A mistake. Of course it was a mistake. Just being in the city was a mistake. 

The fact hit him hard the moment he stepped out of the store. The looks of those passing by fixed onto him in an instant -- the averted eyes, the surprised blinks, the open mouthed gapes of children behind hurried along by their mothers. The street wasn’t crowded by any means, but that made it worse, really -- it was harder to blend in. Harder to get away.

As short as the conversation had been, the scene in that last store left Muriel’s chest feeling tight. He ducked his head and crossed his arms over his chest, face red and eyes on the ground. He didn't really know where he meant to go, but found he had turned a corner into a quieter, less populated street -- a sort of culdesac of shops and buildings, the street cut off by a fenced dead end a good ways down. Muriel didn't even look up. He just walked. 

His heart was beating faster than he thought it should have been when he slowed to a stop beside the window of a quiet shop. Inanna hurried to his side -- he must have lost her in his haste -- and lifted her snout to brush against his fingers. Muriel gave a low, shaky breath, opening up his fingers a bit and brushing them back against her head. He let his shoulders slump, eyes settling to a close as he tried to catch his breath. 

“I shouldn’t be here,” he said quietly, earning a quiet whine from the wolf beside him. “We should go home. This was…” 

A mistake?

Muriel shook his head, eyes still closed. It was a mistake -- most things he did were mistakes, as it seemed. A month ago, Muriel would get sick at the idea of venturing into the city alone. What did he think he was doing then? Buying himself something so he could… impress Asra? Who cared? Why… why did he care? Muriel didn't belong in the city, he didn't belong in a nice clothing store. He didn't belong in a lot of places that weren’t his own empty apartment and his own empty shop. 

He certainly didn't belong with Asra. 

“Let’s go home,” Muriel grumbled, opening his eyes. He’d tell Asra he got sick. Or that there was an emergency at the shop. He turned around, looking out into the populated street with a wary furrow of his brow. “I… shouldn’t be here.” 

He started forwards, but not before he casted one final look around the empty street of shops he was on. Inanna hurried to follow on his tail, already falling behind -- but she found herself bumping into the back of Muriel’s legs when he had stopped short unexpectedly, a gentle yip leaving her as she jumped back, ears perking. Muriel didn't look at her. His eyes were focused on something in the window of the shop he’d just been passing…

A glint of magenta had been what caught his shifting eyes. A familiar shade of it, vibrant yet beautiful, a statement but just a touch of it. Muriel had stopped mid step, only blinking when he felt Inanna bump into his legs. He cocked his head, lifting a hand to sweep his hair behind his ear and out of his eyes. Muriel, without thinking, moved closer to investigate. 

A necklace. Handmade, as it seemed, laid out on a platform filled with others of the sort… but none as eye catching. Of course, the deep green pendants and gentle yellow beads were pretty, but none of them made Muriel stop. It was that one. A magenta stone wrapped in silver wire, clasped to handsome brown twine. He flicked his eyes up to the name of the store, and then back down to the display. Beside the display was the price of the shops jewelry written out on a small black chalkboard…

Expensive. They were handmade necklaces with precious gems. Of course they were expensive. 

Muriel absently patted for his pocket. The money was there -- he’d visited the ATM before even looking for a place to shop. He had the cash…

His eyes met another sign as he thought about it. It hung just above the display. “Gems, jewelry, clothing, and more!” Muriel’s lips curled into an indecisive frown, eyes trailing down to the necklace again. If it was that expensive, he didn't even want to think about what a shirt would cost…

But he had the cash. 

Muriel spent a moment or so toying with his dilemma. Somehow after seeing that necklace… the tightness in his chest had eased a bit. The thought drew him to it… the thought… it gave him an idea…

Before he knew it, Muriel had reached for the door of the shop, and pulled it open, greeted by the chime of the bell on the door. 

He had the cash. He needed the shirt. He wanted the necklace. 

But not for himself. 

~~~ 

By the time Asra had finished getting dressed, he was almost buzzing with excitement. His work had gone by without flaw: Julian had been at the Raven, meaning that he wasn’t there to distract Asra. Lucio had been brief and dismissed him quickly, sliding over an envelope which contained his cash reward and telling him to take a bottle of wine on his way out if he so desired. He wouldn’t have on any other occasion, but he’d been in a good mood just thinking of seeing Muriel again and had snatched up a nice looking bottle on his way past.

And when Valerius had passed him while he’d left Lucio’s office, he hadn’t given it enough thought to glare at Valerius on his way past, too focused on the money in his hand. He could get so many things for Muriel with it- he could take him to a nice clothes shop somewhere uptown and let him marvel at everything, secretly collecting everything that he took a liking to to buy for him.

Muriel had been in his thoughts a lot lately. It was weird. Nice, of course, but weird.

It made jobs inconvenient, sure, but aside from that he didn’t have a problem with thinking of Muriel so often. He opened his closet and began to look through it, and all that went through his mind was “what would Muriel like?”

Sure, he knew that Muriel wouldn’t mind whatever he wore, but that didn’t stop Asra from putting effort into choosing a nicer outfit for him, or making sure that he would look his best.

He’d showered, dried his hair (and watched as it inevitably puffed back up into it’s curly, untameable mess), and then he’d stood in front of the closet for ten minutes while he looked through every shirt he had. Faust had draped herself over his shoulders, looking at his clothes and occasionally chirping out which shirts she preferred, or which colours she liked.

Soon he’d settled on the blue shirt, figuring that it was a nice colour and that the simple white stripes that patterned it would be a nice accent. It would contrast his yellow car nicely, too, which was good. He pulled on white pants to go with it, tight fitting jeans with a blow flowery pattern embroidered around his left leg, climbing slowly up to his hip.

He’d then settled down by the vanity, picking up his gold collar and his blue necklace, then collecting a few rings and bracelets, smoothing out his clothes. He pushed himself to his feet, checking in the mirror twice to make sure he looked alright before beginning to the door. He grabbed his phone and wallet, then making sure Faust was still coiled safely around his wrist before he left his apartment. By the time he was in his car, it was five-thirty and he was grinning, peppy pop music blaring from his speakers as he drove with the windows. Taylor Swift might not have been the most dignified thing, especially judging by the amount of teenagers he drove past late at night that found it funny, but he didn’t care. 

Even as he drove he couldn’t think of anything but Muriel, slowly stopping outside of the beautiful restaurant. It was nicer than he remembered. The parking lot was empty so he stopped outside the door, making sure that Muriel would be able to see his car in the parking lot to know that he was here, and that this was the right place.

He stepped inside, looking at the pristine marble floors and the tall walls, the chandeliers that decorated the ceilings. Each table had a beautiful set of elegant white orchids, and as Asra brought up his reservation (and renting of the place), he was directed to a beautiful table in a booth in the restaurant. He could have put their table anywhere with the deserted restaurant, but he knew Muriel would be more relaxed about it if he wasn’t exposed on all sides. So the booth it was, with their two places set out, glasses of water poured, and their white orchids mixed with gardenias and beautifully contrasting forget-me-nots. 

Asra picked up his phone.

“Waiting for you (ᵔᴥᵔ)” he sent Muriel, followed up quickly by an “Are you on your way? (◕‿◕✿)”

Muriel felt the buzz of the texts in his pocket but he didn't answer -- his eyes on the road and his hands on the wheel. Inanna sat in the passenger seat, her fur flowing in the breeze from the cracked windows, the toy she had gotten from Asra held in her mouth. He had already texted Asra to ask if the restaurant would allow her, making sure to mention she didn't wear a collar. Asra said it would be fine, the message followed by one of those goofy emoticons -- one that looked like a dog. It was stupid… but that didn't mean Muriel’s lips hadn’t quirked into a gentle smile. 

He was wearing his new shirt. It was nice -- the fabric, the design, the color. Hunter green with gold trimmings, comfortable, fitting. Expensive, sure. Everything in the store had been expensive, including the necklace Muriel had tucked into the pocket of his dark jeans. Especially the necklace, he supposed, because the vendor charged extra for the little jewelry box to keep it in. There was still a slight trickle of worry deep in his system after spending all that money, but he was sure it would fade. After some of the bills he had to pay that week, and all the days he had left before payment day, Muriel was sure he’d have a thousand to spare. Even in the worst case scenario, he’d just make it. 

So he’d… treat himself. To put it in Asra’s words. And Inanna’s. And that nice woman who came by his shop. 

Muriel found the restaurant about fifteen minutes after his phone buzzed, his old truck pulling into the empty parking lot. Immediately, Muriel’s brow furrowed -- worried eyes scanning the nearly vacant stretch of pavement. The only reason he knew he wasn’t in the wrong place had been Asra’s car parked up by the front. Muriel parked a polite few spaces away from his, and shut the engine off. 

He reached into his back pocket, opened up his phone and read his texts. Muriel frowned, looking up at the building before him. He waited a moment or two before looking back to his phone and typing out his answer. 

“just got here. it’s empty. are you sure it’s open”

Admittedly, after fifteen minutes had slowly trickled past, Asra had been getting worried. His first thought was that Muriel was busy, but Muriel never usually made him wait so long for a text back so after two minutes Asra was beginning to doubt it. Then he was worried about whether or not Muriel had taken a job and forgotten to tell him, which pestered at him until the thought crossed his mind that something could have happened at the shop.

From there, it was a steady sort of downward spiral before his phone buzzed in his pocket. He was almost fumbling with his rush to dig it out, seeing the simple text from Muriel on his screen and being overcome with relief. He opened the conversation after only a moment.

“I hope so, I’m sat inside!” his first message came, but in true Asra fashion he wasn’t just going to leave it there. “I would be strong enough to break in ᕙ(⇀‸↼‶)ᕗ but it’s open, so don’t worry.”

From there, he tucked his phone away and leant up, looking over at the doorway and waiting for Muriel’s large silhouette to appear. He was wondering whether or not Muriel had gotten a new shirt, as he’d insisted, but he didn’t know if Muriel would have wanted to go out shopping anywhere busy. To spend money on himself, no less. He didn’t mind, though. As much as he wanted to see Muriel in a new shirt, it was mostly just his way of trying to convince Muriel that he was allowed to spend money on himself.

Up next on the list was convincing Muriel to get himself a haircut. And maybe a shave- just to tidy up the stubble a little bit.

Muriel frowned, sent Asra a simple ‘k’, and stuffed his phone back into his pocket. He stepped out of the car, let Inanna out, and made his way towards the building. He was cautious as he pushed the door open, peeking inside and feeling his face fall at the size of the building’s interior. At the very empty interior. Muriel blinked as he started his way into the restaurant, looking around at the empty tables and the lonesome employees. The hostess smiled at him and pointed to the right, before looking down to Inanna and giving her a smiley little wave. Inanna wagged her tail and started the way the hostess had pointed without any bit of reluctance. 

With an awkward parting nod towards the hostess, Muriel started after her, his head ducked, his eyes flicking back and forth along the barren tables until the met with a familiar head of white haired curls. 

“Asra?” Muriel asked, his quiet voice echoing through the empty room. He blushed at the sound. “Uh… hi…” 

Asra lit up the second he saw Muriel. From the way that Muriel shied away, it must have been obvious, but Asra couldn’t help it. Even just the change of shirt- an expensive one, it seemed- seemed to make Muriel look better. He gestured to the seat opposite himself, smiling warmly.

“Hey,” he said, his eyes scanning over Muriel’s form yet again. “Nice shirt. It seems that you took my advice, and it’s paid off. That really suits you.”

A little smirk quirked about his lips, his brows raised slightly and his eyes narrowed with amusement, shining. His eyes gave another involuntary scan of Muriel’s body, admiring the fit of the shirt, where it was more relaxed in some places and tighter in others. As blunt of an observation as it was, Muriel was big. Asra liked that he’d managed to find a shirt that fit him, though he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t surprised it fit so well.

“Come on, take a seat and settle down. I know it was a little confusing how empty the place was but I rented it out for us. I didn’t want anyone staring or for you to be uncomfortable if there were too many people here.”

Muriel noticed Asra’s lasting glance on his shirt and promptly blushed, crossing his arms over his chest and flicking his eyes down. Inanna had already made her way to the table, curling up beneath it and chewing happily on her toy -- tail thumping against the waxed flooring once Muriel began making his way towards his seat. 

Asra looked nice. Muriel wouldn't say it, of course, but there was no denying Asra had fixed up his already considerably fashionable style. His rings and bracelets sparkled in the bright light above the table. His shirt was clean and handsome. The necklace and its pendant sat perfectly around his neck and on his chest -- the sight of its color making Muriel very aware of the item in his pocket. Instantly he grew nervous about it. Muriel hoped Asra didn't notice as he sank down into his chair. 

He looked around a little. “You… really rented out the whole place?” he asked, voice quiet. “Wasn’t that expensive?” 

“I have connections, Muriel. I pulled a few strings, gave a few bribes, and it wasn’t as much as it could have been. Come on, money isn’t something I want you to think about anymore today. That’s why your menu won’t have any prices. You order what you want and I’ll pay for it all.”

He reached over, taking Muriel’s hand and bringing it to his lips. He gently pressed a few kisses along his knuckles, smiling against his skin he looked up at Muriel.  
“Come on. Settle down, it’s nothing. I want to focus on you, and I want you to focus on me.”

Muriel instantly flushed, eyes shooting wide. He parted his lips to ask what Asra had been doing, but his voice caught in his throat. Muriel just shut his mouth and flicked his eyes away, brow furrowed and face red. He was too flustered to say anything -- that was it. It wasn’t how nice each kiss felt at all. 

One more gentle and reassuring squeeze for Muriel’s hand, and Asra pulled it back from his lips. He’d noticed that Muriel was tense, but he knew better than to question it. Not until Muriel had relaxed a little, at least. Better to let him adjust to this new place, new situation, to somewhere so pristine while he was in new clothes. Everything about this was new to Muriel. Unfamiliar. Asra wasn’t going to make it worse by asking him why he was unnerved.

It was best not to put any more pressure on him. Not yet.

“Choose anything you want,” he urged, “Tonight is about you.”

Muriel kept his eyes on the floor. “Why?” he asked timidly. Muriel recognized the tone of his voice and blinked, instantly backtracking. “I… I mean why just me -- I… it can be about you, uh… you too…”

Before Asra could answer, Muriel cleared his throat, slowly taking his hand back to reach for his menu -- half to check to see if Asra really did take away the prices, and half to hide behind. The tips of his ears were already feeling hot with blush. Muriel stayed behind the menu, his voice quiet and mumbled when he spoke out from behind it. 

“I… um, uh… I might have… uh…” It was as if his tongue was too big for his mouth. Muriel cursed himself and closed his eyes, bringing the menu higher to better hide his face. His next collection of words were so fast and so quiet, they were barely understandable. “I might have gotten you something.” 

“What was that, Muriel?” Asra asked, reaching over and tipping the menu down just enough to be able to see Muriel, a warm smile on his lips. “You’ll need to speak up. I didn’t catch that.”

Muriel shook his head a little, barely peeking out from over his menu. “I said I… I got you something. While I was out. So, uh… it’s not just… about me…”

Asra’s eyes widened a little, pushing the menu down the rest of the way.  
“Huh? You got me something?” he asked, pulling his hand back. “You didn’t have to do that, Muriel! I wanted you to spend money on yourself.”

Nonetheless, he was already almost grinning, his cheeks warm just thinking that Muriel had gone out of his way to get him something. He kept his eyes on Muriel, though, eagerly awaiting his elaboration and the reveal of whatever had been picked up. He didn’t know what to expect from Muriel. That was likely what made him more excited about it.

“Did you buy it when you went to get your shirt?” He asked next, just trying to urge Muriel into talking about it, not wanting him to back down and shy away from giving it to him.

Muriel nodded. “Yeah,” he answered bluntly, not knowing what else to say. He didn't even realize it would be the perfect time to share the gift until he felt Inanna’s nose prod against his pocket. Muriel had jumped, reaching towards it rather quickly, stumbling for his words. 

“It-it’s… nothing. Really. I’m sure you have better… I… I don’t know.” Muriel slipped the little box from his pocket and clumsily offered it to Asra, holding it flat on his palm. “I just saw it and I thought of you. I- I mean-! I mean I thought of you liking it… I guess.” 

Asra reached over, taking the dainty box from the palm of Muriel’s big hand, still smiling.  
“I’m sure I’ll love it,” he said softly to Muriel, giving him a reassuring sort of smile before his focus returned to the little box. He popped it open and there, sat shining in the plush comfort of the white box, was the beautiful magenta stone necklace, with that complimentary silver and the simple brown twine. He picked it up gently, lifting it from the box, eyes softening and lips curling into a wider smile as he looked down at it. 

It was beautiful. And Muriel giving it to him had definitely made him love it that much more. Cautiously, he lifted it from the box, not hesitating to clip it around his neck and letting it fall flat against his chest, replacing the blue necklace which disappeared from around his neck after a moment, appearing in his hand for him to tuck into his pocket. He glanced down at him, feeling the cool metal against his chest.

“It’s beautiful,” he told Muriel, reaching over to take his hand and kissing Muriel’s knuckles again. “Thank you so much, Muriel. I’ll treasure it.”

Muriel ducked his head again, wishing he had his menu to hide behind. “Yeah,” he said weakly, eyes wide, face a deep shade of red. “Sure. Whatever.” 

He swallowed hard, flicking his eyes up from the floor to cast his embarrassed glance around the room. None of the few workers were looking, thankfully, so none of them could see such a bold display -- on his case and Asra’s. Although… buying out a whole restaurant just to have dinner with a friend alone had to have been one of the boldest gestures Muriel had ever encountered. It made something in him shudder when he thought he was the one such a gesture was made for. Muriel couldn’t quite tell if it was a good feeling or a bad feeling yet. 

“It’s nothing compared to what you’ve done for me,” he grumbled, shrugging his shoulders. 

“Who’s comparing anything? This is the sweetest thing that anyone has done for me in a long time, Muriel. It…” he placed his hand on the necklace, resting two fingers atop of that magenta stone. “It means a lot. Thank you.”

It was decided. He was going to wear this necklace everyday until he died. 

Finally, he picked up his own menu to show Muriel he could do the same now, that he could hide his face if he wanted to.  
“What are you thinking of getting? This restaurant doesn’t have any of my favourites but it might have some eel for you.” ‘Might’ being code for ‘it definitely does’, as Asra had wanted to make sure Muriel would have a meal he’d like. Nothing too fancy, nothing absurd, just his regular old smoked eel. Of course, it would taste better and be well presented somewhere like here, but that was besides the point. He wouldn’t have taken Muriel here if there wasn’t something on the menu that Asra knew he liked.

Muriel, still red, picked his menu back up again and looked at it. A moment or so passed before he shrugged, his head ducked, hair falling before his face -- he had forgotten to tie it up. He skimmed through the choices one more time before leaning back, eyes averted to the floor. 

“The eel would be fine,” he mumbled. It was better than fine -- in fact, Muriel was beginning to feel something one might call excitement at the idea of tasting it again -- but he’d never admit it aloud, of course. “Uh… what, um, about you?” 

“Mm… I think I’ll go for the kale and romesco pasta. It says that it’ll be spicy,” he said, pointing to the two chilis beside it. Asra didn’t usually have a problem with spicy food, but that made him curious about Muriel’s preference. “Do you like spicy food?” he asked, reaching over to Muriel’s hand and taking it, running his thumb over his knuckles. “I want to know for next time I buy things for your fridge. I want to make sure I’m getting things that you’ll like.”

Well, that and this would hopefully prompt a conversation of some kind. A proper one. Talking to Muriel was a lot of fun- there were always so many little things to learn, small details that felt like a huge thing to learn due to his typical reluctance to say just about anything. 

Better that than talking to Julian, who would tell anyone his life story over a pint.

Muriel frowned at him, ducking his head again as he set the menu down. 

“You don’t need to buy me food,” he said out of impulse, even if the suggesting was futile. “But… I mean… I guess. Spicy food is alright. I don’t eat it much.” 

There were plenty of foods and flavors Muriel didn't eat much. He gathered what he could from the local farmers market on grocery days and whatever eggs his weekend employer would let him keep after coming in to work with the chickens -- but it was all just… food. Something he just had to eat to keep himself going. All the food Asra had slipped in his fridge along with that meal plan he written out was confusing. Muriel knew how to prepare it all well with a Google -- he’d always had an unnatural sort of gift with cooking, somehow -- but it still perplexed him. So much money and time spent on something just for energy. As nice as the occasional eel or spiced meal had been, he couldn’t see himself living off a diet of it. 

It was just impractical. 

“I like to buy you food. You’re a big man, Muriel, and you should be eating good food. I don’t want you to be eating bland, repetitive meals out of convenience’s sake. Little things like well-cooked meals can make all the difference. Eating properly can improve your mood and your health.” Asra reached over the table, taking Muriel’s hand. “I buy you food so you can eat properly. I’m sure that whatever you usually eat is good enough, but I want you to have more than just what’ll do.”

He pulled back, glancing over as one of the waiters arrived with a tray of water and asked for their orders. Asra ordered for them both, with water for the table since they were both going to be driving back, and turned his attention to Muriel.  
“How’s work been treating you?”

Muriel shrugged, looking down at his hand where Asra had touched him before using it to reach for one of those glasses of water. He took a sip, eyes on the table as he thought of an answer. 

“Alright,” he said with a shrug. “I’ve been… busy. The pay is good. After rent I’ll have more than enough money for my next… uh, loan-shark payment.” 

It still felt so odd to say such a thing out loud. He looked around with a darting sort of glance, his face deepening in shad with embarrassment as he searched for someone who could be listening. When there was no one there, Muriel turned back to face Asra. And then back down to the table when he noticed those round, interested and… admittedly pretty eyes watching him back. 

“If business stays like this I… I might even be able to pay you back some day…”

“You shouldn’t do that,” Asra said softly, though thinking of Muriel making a genuine profit and being able to make a better living for himself made him smile. “The money that you earn is yours, you should spend it on yourself, not on me.”

Seeing how anxiously Muriel had looked around had made him that much more relieved that he’d rented the place out. He would have hated to take Muriel out someplace nice only for him to be too anxious because he was surrounded by people. Renting out the place hadn’t been cheap, but Muriel’s happiness was priceless. It would balance out if Muriel was able to relax. 

“And the regular, was she nice?” he asked, pressing a little, wanting to learn more about Muriel’s work and what it entailed. “Everything seems to be running so smoothly lately.”

Muriel cocked his head. “The... oh. Oh yeah… yeah she was nice.” He had to think a moment to catch up, blinking as he looked up to meet Asra’s eyes. “She’s always nice. Her son likes to play with Inanna.” The wolf’s tail thumped against the floor at the mention of her name. Muriel reached down and wiggled his fingers, waiting until she moved up to meet his hand so he could pet her head.

“She kept mentioning you,” he said quietly, face flushing. “She, um… she thinks we’re... uh… you know.” 

“She thinks we’re what?” Asra asked, learning over the table a little more, his eyes shining with amusement. He definitely knew, but that wasn’t going to stop him from prodding at Muriel to get him to say it outright.

Muriel shot him a glance, face deepening in color as he rose his shoulders in a defeated shrug. “She thinks we’re dating. Or something. I don’t know. It’s dumb.” His words were gruff and short. Muriel was quick to change the subject. “How-uh- is your work treating you. Or… or whatever…”

“Oh, it’s the same,” Asra said, already trying to figure out how to indirectly talk about work without giving anything away. “I was lucky to avoid Julian today, he’s likely out on a job or at the bar. I got some extra money from my boss, too, and a bottle of wine if you want to go back to your place or mine and open it. I’ve done some extra work to make up for some, uh… assignments I didn’t turn in on time, and it must have really made the boss happy.”

Muriel sat for a moment, trying to think of something to say. He found himself backtracking, combing through what Asra had been saying before the rather teasing hums that left Muriel so red. 

“That wine you got from your… boss,” he started quietly. “What kind is it?” 

Asra, despite his warm smile and how he’d been lovingly admiring Muriel’s blush, decided that it was best to let it slide at that. Just for Muriel’s sake, to avoid panicking him. As much as he’d love to press and make Muriel admit to talking about him, he decided to leave it there. But… choosing to talk about the wine he had at home? It was a pretty specific thing to ask about, and Asra pulled up a tab on his phone under the table to recall the name.

“Some fancy white wine called prieur montrachet. I wasn’t really looking at it when I picked it up. I googled it to know what kind of thing I’d picked up and it’s a pretty nice sounding drink. Fruity, slight tang, and it’s not too heavy. It’s French, so it must have cost a lot to bring over but whatever. I was told to take a bottle and I did.”

Asra leant forwards a little.  
“Do you want to come over? To share it?”

Muriel parted his lips to answer, looking up from his plate, a hesitant yes on his tongue -- but he stopped himself. He furrowed his brow as he thought about it, settling his fork down on his plate as he leaned back in his seat. Going over to Asra’s likely meant spending the night. Not only did spending the night mess with his schedule for the next day at work, spending the night meant he’d get a place to sleep. A place that wasn’t the couch -- not after last time. 

A place that could easily be Asra’s own bedroom. 

With Asra. 

Their last night together was still fresh and sore in his system -- the memory presenting itself with a harsh sort of pang somewhere in Muriel’s chest. The near kiss. The nightmare. The near slip of secrets Muriel had been clinging to his chest with all his strength. He couldn’t do that again -- not so soon after the last time, anyways. 

So he shook his head. 

“I have work tomorrow,” Muriel said, hoping he didn't sound as though he was groping for excuses. “It’s a long drive back to South End and even if I stay at your place I… I’d just like to sleep in my apartment, I think…” 

Despite his disappointment, Asra nodded. He couldn’t keep the slight upset from his tone, but he wasn’t going to risk upsetting Muriel with his own feelings.  
“Oh, that’s fine,” he assured him. “Another time, definitely. You’re so busy with work lately either way, I wouldn’t want to do any harm to your schedule or work flow.”

He dug back into eating, figuring that it would be best not to dwell on it. He’d be having his wine alone, then, he supposed. It wasn’t like he would be inviting anyone else over. He’d considered inviting Julian, but he didn’t want to give the wrong impression or have the bottle gone within a few minutes. Not with the amount of work he’d put into dealing with Eden, anyway.

“Do you have many jobs set up for tomorrow?”

Muriel shrugged. “As many as I usually do,” he mumbled, dragging his fork idly around his plate. “It’s been really busy there this week though. Normally when there’s a spike, business goes real flat the next week or so. Not good for money but… I guess that means I have time for… whatever…” 

He ducked his head, blushing a little again.

“What about you?” he mumbled. “You’ve been… busy this week. At least at the beginning of it. Were you working on something important?” 

“I… you could say that,” Asra said, nodding a little, his thoughts flickering back to that chat he’d had with the bandaged man and the bonus received shortly after. “It’s just work. It was mundane stuff, really. The usual. A little extra credit was involved since I’d been off for so many hours and needed to ensure that I was still interested in keeping the job. Boss gave me extra pay for doing work overtime, and that’s why I’m taking you out tonight.”

Well, it was a nice way of putting it. Better than telling Muriel that the person who put him into debt was giving Asra the money he ‘generously’ used to try and help Muriel out of his debt.

“Work talk is boring, though. There’s never anything new with me, but you meet a lot of people. Even if you don’t really want to.” His eyes lit up a little as he tipped his head to the side. “Is everything alright back home? Have you been following your meal schedule well?”

Conversation came easy from there. Drifting from one topic to the next between mouthfuls of rich food. Asra was proud to say he made Muriel laugh a few times, and less proud to say that the familiar warmth and giddiness of a crush came flushing through his chest every time. By the time they were saying goodbye, neither of them wanted to leave each others side. Muriel wouldn’t be free again for the foreseeable future, and Asra wasn’t sure how busy work would make him.

But fate was cruel, and even if they didn’t intend to meet again soon…

They would.


	16. Short On Cash

The knocks startled Muriel from his thoughts. 

He’d been in a peaceful daze of sorts. Sat back rather comfortably in the chair at the table, his heavy lidded, tired eyes trained upon the vase of new flowers Asra had given him the morning after dinner. They were a gentle purple, the shade of forget-me-nots, bunched together — perfectly shaped and tied. He had his fork in his hand, absently poking at the full plate before him while Inanna watched rather expectedly for her share from beneath the table. 

Muriel was tired, but he didn’t know why. He’d just gotten back from one of the more quieter, lazier days of his shop. He’d actually left it earlier than usual. The roads were empty and barren, no one had broken cars nor cash to give. Muriel left because he wanted to be home in his clean, secure apartment. He left, perhaps, out of precaution. Eagerness. It was payday, after all. 

And he had every penny to cover it. 

A thousand. That was what he needed. Everything else had been paid for that week, and the rent of the month too. All that was left to pay was his debt to the Count, and then he’d coast until the next paycheck and build up his amounts again until two weeks later. Muriel was working out a system, working out a way to keep up with the climbing rates and prices. If business kept going the way it was, he’d be okay. If Asra kept helping him with his food, he’d be more than okay. If, for some reason, Lucio settled for a firm amount to collect every week again, Muriel would be picture perfect. 

A thousand. A thousand was a pretty number. An easy one to remember. Something flashy and fun to brag about. 

A thousand. That’s what Muriel had. A thousand. 

The knock on the door. Muriel started from his daze and set down his fork. He then placed his bet on just who it would be. Ludovico? Bludmilla? Probably Ludovico. Either one would scowl and grumble out some cruel form of Scourge and be in their way. Muriel’s lips quirked into the gentlest of smirks on his way to the fridge, ducking down and slipping out the plastic baggie of cash he’d hidden there. It was his new spot — he didn’t trust the mattress anymore.

Muriel moved to the door, and undid all the locks. Each one moved with a heavy clunk or a hefty click as every gear turned and every nub fell into place. He slid the chain, and opened the door, peeking out into the tired eyes of Ludovico — guessed it — and earning that sneer he’d been waiting for. 

“You know the drill,” Ludovico growled, holding out his open palm. 

With a nod, Muriel brought the door back some and unzipped the plastic baggie. He slipped the money out, flicked through it as if he meant to count it one last time, and then placed it into Ludovico’s open palm. The man looked down at the money, and began to count it himself. Muriel watched, some of his confidence shying away to the normal anxiety as Ludo’s thumb shuffled through each dollar. 

“A thousand,” Muriel mumbled. He almost sounded impatient. “I just counted it.”

Ludovico stopped, his hands freezing halfway through flicking past a hundred dollar bill. He looked up, brow furrowed. 

“A thousand?” he asked. “Scourge, the Count wants two.” 

All the blood in Muriel’s body seemed to stop in place in one chilling instant — like his heart had skipped a beat. 

“Two?” he echoed stupidly, blinking his eyes. “Two… two what?”

Ludovico gave a scoff and rolled his eyes. “Two thousand,” he mumbled. He held out his hand after he was done counting the only thousand Muriel had given him. The only thousand Muriel could give him. Ludo wiggled his fingers a little. “Come on, pay up. I’m ready to go home.”

“Two…” Muriel’s repeated murmur trailed off into nothing. He tried to swallow, but his throat felt dry. When he spoke again, his voice was croaky. “It was only supposed to be a thousand.” 

Ludovico shrugged his shoulders.   
“Yeah, something like that. I was a little surprised when the boss said he wanted two. As much as I hate you, I know that’s gotta sting.” He wiggled his fingers again. “But come on. Just give it over.”

Muriel’s chest felt empty and light, but his heart was as heavy as lead. It left an imbalance in his system, one that left his knees weak. He slumped against the doorframe, running all the numbers through his head. Two thousand? Two thousand?

“Two thousand?” Muriel murmured. 

Ludovico furrowed his brow. Suspicion rose in his features, twinkled in his eyes, but he didn’t ask anything to confirm any of them. Not yet. 

“Yeah. You got a problem?”

Muriel barely felt the words that left his lips. 

“I don’t have it.” 

A silence followed that. A silence Muriel didn't know if he liked. Every time he thought about the day he wouldn’t have the cash, he’d imagined cruel laughter from Ludovico it Bludmilla. A snort or a muttered ‘finally’. But Ludovico just looked at him. He just looked and he just watched — he just watched Muriel’s face slowly drain of all its color as the realization really set into place. 

“Really?” Ludovico asked after a long while. He stepped back, sticking his hands into his pockets — along with Muriel’s only thousand. “You sure you don’t have another thousand to spare?” 

“I don’t have anything to spare. That’s it.” How was he talking so clearly? Muriel felt like his head was wrapped in a veil of sorts. He was stuck in a haze. A daze — but one exactly opposite of the one he’d been in before. 

Muriel wasn’t looking at him, his eyes were on the ground, but he could feel the wince. The averted eyes. Perhaps as much as Ludovico wanted to watch him fall all the years he’d been collecting, he never really expected it to happen. Or maybe he was simply afraid of what Muriel would do the second he told him he had to go to Lucio. 

Muriel put more faith in that second option. 

“Well… I guess you know what that means,” he sighed, stepping back some more. Ludovico waved a hand, as if in a gesture for Muriel to join him for a normal evening stroll. “It’s not too late. The boss is still in his office.”

There it was. Muriel’s stomach churned. His body felt sick — but his head? Calm, still stifled by that viel. Stifled to the point of a feigned cool. He nodded. Nodded. How could he nod to such a suggestion? What happened to his fear? To his conviction? 

“It was only supposed to be a thousand,” Muriel said, his tongue clumsy in his mouth.

Ludovico stared at him. 

“I know, Muriel.” 

He knew his name? Muriel wouldn’t have ever guessed Ludovico would call him anything other than Scourge. He supposed that little jolt of surprise was enough to allow him to push up off of the door frame and stand straight. Muriel stepped out into the hall, wide eyes on the floor. He snapped his fingers for Inanna, but before the wolf could even stand from her spot by the table, Ludovico closed the apartment door. 

“Boss said, whenever the day came, to make sure you left the wolf at home.” 

Muriel stared at the door. A low, forlorn howl came from behind the wood, accompanied by the scratching of claws. He looked at Ludovico, feeling like he’d been living outside of his body somehow. His voice didn’t feel like his own when he told Inanna to stop, to go lay down and wait for him. 

The scratching stopped. 

Ludovico sighed, digging into his pants pocket. He had a cigarette box in his hand. Two were slipped from its cardboard body, one handed to Muriel. He didn’t know what to do with it. He just watched Ludovico light his own despite the no smoking signs posted around the building. 

“Let’s get this over with,” Ludovico said. He gave Muriel the lighter and started down the hall, taking a deep drag of his cigarette. The smoke curled from his lips when he smoked again. “Don’t waste that cigarette, Scourge. You’re going to need it.” 

~~~

The Palace was busier than Muriel remembered it to be. 

Not that he liked to remember it at all. 

The drive to the city, to Lucio’s grand building with its towering might and its greek styled architecture and its handsomely decorated innards, was quiet. As expected, of course. Ludovico wasn’t going to say anything. Muriel of course, with his buzzing head and his nauseous stomach, wasn’t going to be quite talkative either. Once, Ludovico turned on the radio. Only a minute or so passed before he turned it off again. It seemed as though neither of them were in the mood for the years hottest tracks in pop music. 

Muriel didn't know why he wasn’t losing any sense of his composure. His hands were shaking, his skin was pale and cool to the touch, but really the rest of him seemed… functional. He was breathing. He was seeing. He was hearing. Sure, there was a numbness to his skin and a faint thrumming of something terrible deep in his gut, like some radiating buzz that stretched its polluting waves outward to the very tips of his fingers and the misted veil of his head -- but that was about it. He’d always imagined that whenever the day would come, he would have fought more. He would have panicked more. Even cried more. 

Perhaps, already, the obedience was kicking in.

He could feel it. The moment he stepped through the crowded doors of the Palace, he could feel it. Old shackles he’d been ignoring for years encircled themselves around his wrists and ankles. A chillingly familiar tug pulled at his gut. He felt such sensations change the set of his features. Those who looked at him saw darkened eyes, a set jaw, shadowed by choppy bangs and a glare that kept itself to the ground.

You know what happens next. 

No amount of obedience would stifle the lurch of fear he felt twist at his heart. That electric pulse thrummed through him again. Muriel was left with a dead, cold feeling that left his flesh crawling. 

The lobby was crowded -- more than Muriel ever remembered it being at such a time in the day, and such a day in the week. The marble floors were stepped upon by shiny work shoes of every day employees, dressed in sharp grey suits and dresses, carrying briefcases and handfuls of papers held together with clips and folders. They all seemed so regular. They all seemed so… oblivious. Muriel could feel the odd glances of those who didn't even know who he was -- those who saw him as some tall man in a mechanic stained sweatshirt and old jeans. 

There were so many that didn't recognize him. 

He almost forgot that there would be someone who would. 

He heard the sound of a briefcase dropping before he heard the gasp. Muriel flinched at the way the clatter echoed throughout the hall of the lobby, and he lifted his head up like everyone else. His gaze locked with the one of the man who’d dropped his things. A man who’d gone pale the moment their eyes met, who took a shaky step backwards, lips parted, jaw slack. 

“Scourge is back?” he asked aloud. “Jesus Christ. Scourge is back. God help us all...” 

Neither Ludovico nor Muriel had a chance to say anything before the man scooped up his briefcase, and scurried off into the crowd. 

There were several more reactions like that before they even made it to the elevator. He didn't recognize a single one of them, but every single one looked at him as though he’d been a part of their regular nightmares. 

And each one made Muriel feel more nauseous than the last. 

There was a group of guards stationed at the elevator, checking passes, letting some people through, shooing others off. Those were the people Muriel recognized. Those were the people he knew deep down belonged within the polished walls of Lucio’s hellish domain. They were also the people who, at the sight of him, didn't cringe or gape or gasp. 

They were the ones that grinned. Nasty grins. Dirty grins. 

Somehow they made Muriel feel sicker than the horrified gaping from before. 

“Scourge!” Each time the name was said, Muriel felt another piece of him burn and shrivel. “It’s about time, you freak. Boss is just gonna love seeing you.” 

Muriel didn't answer. He didn't even look up to see which of the guards had been talking. His eyes were on the floor as he tailed Ludovico, stopping when he stopped, waiting impatiently for Ludo to get his card scanned. When Ludovico held out his identification, however, the guard with the scanner pushed his hand away, and leaned to the side as if to look over Ludovico’s shoulder. 

“You got a haircut,” the scanner guard crooned. “Always figured that long hair was impractical. Musta been hard to wash the blood from it, eh?” 

Muriel’s bottom lip quivered. He bit the inside of it to make it stop, dark eyes trained on the floor. It was hard to wash the blood from his hair. Lucio just liked it long.

Ludovico sighed, and held out his hand again.   
“C’mon. Just scan the pass and let us through,” he grumbled. “I wanna get home.” 

Another one of the guards stepped forward, moving around Ludovico -- flanking them as she trailed her gaze up and down Muriel, her whistle low and sly as it blew past her lips.   
“Did he get taller?” she hummed. “I think he got taller.” 

“Looks stronger, too.” Another voice. “The boss is going to be all over him. ‘Specially with that party coming up.” 

Muriel couldn’t help but shiver at that. He pinched his eyes closed and bit harder at the inside of his lip. He didn't like the sound of that. All over him. He didn't like the sound of that at all. 

“Christ, you guys are weird,” Ludovico said, voice oily and impatient. “Scan the fucking pass and let us through. I don’t wanna keep the boss waiting.” 

A collection of groans rose up from the group of guards. When Muriel opened his eyes, he found that none of them had moved. The guard with the scanner kept the device by his hip. Each and every smug stare was trained upon him -- him and his shifting eyes and his tightening chest. Muriel, turned his head away like he didn't care, but his hands were squeezed tight at his sides. His blunted fingernails dug into his palm with gentle pinpricks against his coarse skin. 

“No fair,” the woman from before whined. “You collect money from him every two weeks. You get to talk to him. Let us have a few questions, yeah?” 

The scanner guard gave a snickering laugh. “Oh, yeah- I’ve definitely had a few,” he said, pushing up on his toes so he could look at Muriel overtop of Ludovico. “Have you missed it? Did you really fall under your payments, or were you just itching for more?”

“Well he can’t just leave this life. Obviously he missed it.” 

Another laugh from a guard by the elevator doors. “What did you do instead? I heard you were a car mechanic.” 

“In South End, yeah?” 

“Oh, that place sucks. You gave up this job for South End?”

The questions were relentless. They didn't stop. They seemed to come from all angles. It was making Muriel’s heart pound a little harder in his chest. It made his mouth dry and made his throat feel tight. That anxiety he was missing from before was trickling into his system with every sneer and every quip that slowly degraded the veil he’d had there to protect him. Muriel’s eyes were burning, but he didn't blink them. His throat was full, like there’d been something stuck in it, but he didn't swallow. The questions continued, each word poking and prodding at him. Worming beneath his skin and into his system. But he didn't answer. He didn't ask them to stop. 

God he’d wish they’d stop. 

Stop, stop, stop. 

Talk to someone else. Anyone else! Anyone-!

“Oh! Look who’s here!” The voice of one of the guards, the scanner guard, snapped Muriel from his anxious daze. “Hey- hey Asra! Fuck, man, you’re not gonna believe this! Guess who came back!”

Muriel’s eyes snapped open, and his body tensed. 

Oh. Oh no. 

Anyone else but him. 

 

Asra hadn’t been sure what to expect when he was called.

He hadn't ventured more than a couple of paces out of the elevator with Julian, called in urgently by Lucio. He didn't work so late unless he opted to, if he had the option to avoid it. With the upcoming work party, however, it was no surprise Lucio wanted him working. The more jobs done, the more money he had, the more he could show off. He was half expecting to get a list of jobs to do, half expecting to have to review a thousand different party plans.

“He’ll find out eventually,” Julian was insisting. It had become almost a work routine for Julian to try and convince Asra to tell Muriel. He gave up easy, but he tried time and time again to put the idea in Asra's head.

It was why Asra had started taking the stairs to work whenever Julian was in the elevator. This morning he'd not been so lucky. Julian had come and joined him as the doors were closing, and since then he'd been prodding at Asra's patience.

“He can’t know." Asra couldn't remember how many times a week he repeated that. "He’s got ties, I don’t want him thinking I’m like Lucio.”  
"What ties could he have? I'm sure it's not as bad as you think."  
"It's worse, Julian. He's buried in debt."  
“He- if he likes you, he won’t hold it against you. If he finds out-”  
“Why don’t you go tell Pasha, then? Let her know where you’ve been all these years?”

He’d pushed off of the wall then, waiting for the elevator to stop moving, waiting to change the topic of conversation.

“Wh- That’s different!” Julian defended, moving from where he stood and approaching Asra. "You can't bring that up every time!"

The doors opened with a ding and Asra was already making a dash for the doors. Hell, if it had stopped on any other floors he would have gotten off. This was the most sober he'd seen Julian in a while- the only issue with that was how much more adamant he was.

Asra had been looking for someone else to take his attention away, for something to fixate on. He could hear Julian saying "And if he finds out? What then?" when the enthusiastic yet sneering voice of the scanner guard stole his attention.

That little call of "you’re not gonna believe this! Guess who came back!” and relief flooded him, thinking for a moment that he'd be able to escape the topic of Muriel. For a moment, he’d opened his mouth to respond, and then his eyes had landed on who had come by. 

And for a moment, everything went cold. 

What had happened? Had he fallen back on a payment? Was this what he’d been so afraid of for so long? Asra’s mind was reeling as he tried to process this, as he tried to figure out what to do- what to say. How could he turn this around? He had been referred to by name, for fucks sake, there wasn’t a way to play it off casually.

“What the hell is going on?” he asked instead, hoping his voice wasn’t as shaky as he thought it was. He could tell that Julian wanted to say something- that the second they were alone again, and wouldn’t be overheard, he’d try to give some advice on the situation or point out the obvious. That Muriel would know now, what Asra’s work was. 

“Scourge is back!” One of the guards said again, learning forwards a little. Asra was moving quicker now. His chest was numb with growing dread, and he felt like his legs were moving on their own, “Boss is gonna be thrilled, isn’t he? Thought it was going to be at least another few weeks, didn’t he?”

“Oh, yeah!” the other guard chipped in, neither of them seeming to pick up on Asra’s dread. “Said it’d be a few more payments.”  
“I didn’t think it would be, though- South End? No money working down there, no point. I was surprised he- hey! Woah-” 

Asra had reached over, snatching the scanner device from where it was on his hip, pulling it away from him.  
“Then let’s not keep the boss waiting, yeah?” he said, voice snappier now. Angry, almost, though he wasn’t sure if he was angrier at them or himself. All he knew was that Muriel was uncomfortable, and that he’d get Muriel away from this group no matter what. He pressed the button to the scanner and pushed open the door, holding it there.

It felt wrong to say anything but Muriel, but he couldn’t take the risk around these people. It was uncomfortable to have to say anything other than ‘I’ll keep you safe’ or ‘Don’t worry, we’ll figure this out’ to try and reassure him. It was difficult not to take Muriel’s hand and kiss him and apologise again and again for not telling him, for not giving him enough money, for letting him get brought back here.

But he couldn't. He had a job to do, he had to behave a certain way or he risked putting Muriel or himself in more danger. So when he spoke again, he kept his voice at the same sharp, snappy tone he’d used before.

“Well, Scourge?” Please don’t hate me for this. “Let’s not keep him waiting.” I wish you’d never had to come here.

Muriel stared at him, his eyes wide, his lips parted — features set in a stupid awe of sorts. He shook his head a little, blinked, and then shook his head again. 

“Asra-” the single word was gruff, but pitched with its own wild confusion. “What-... what are you doing here?”

At the sound of the Scourge’s voice, the guards grew just giddy. One leaned up off the wall, another one gave a snicker. The woman guard took a step back, her head cocked as she continued to study Muriel like some wild beast she’d never seen so close before. 

“So he does talk? I heard he was too stupid.” 

One of the guards, the one who had the scanner, gave Asra a friendly shove to the shoulder. “You know the Scourge? What? Did boss ask you to keep an eye on him?” 

A pang of deep fear pierced Muriel’s gut.

Oh no. 

He shook his head a little and took a step backward, still staring at Asra. His body was growing hot, his stomach churning like he was going to be sick. He was going to be sick. Muriel felt like he couldn’t breathe — but his breath was still steady in his chest. He looked down to the floor — it took all his strength to wrench his gaze from Asra. 

Asra works for him. Asra works for him-

“Asra, I’ll take him to the boss,” Ludovico said, his brow furrowed. “He’s dangerous. I can handle it.” 

Don’t tell him that. Please don’t tell him that. 

What if he already knew?

Muriel snapped his eyes closed. His chest felt so tight it hurt. He just wanted to get out of the lobby. Away from the crowd. Away from the guards. Away from Asra. 

As far away from Asra as he could get. 

“He’s fine,” Asra snapped, “And I’m heading to see him anyway, so I’ll take Scourge.”

He looked up at Muriel, suddenly wishing everyone was away so that he could tell Muriel it was okay, talk to him privately, promise him he was okay, that he wouldn’t let anything happen to him.

Ludo took a few paces towards him and Asra held a hand out to stop him.  
“Back off,” he said, voice forceful now, almost threatening. He hadn’t even realised the energy crackling around his fingertips until Ludo had backed a few paces away. He heard some comment about magic, then something else about ‘getting defensive’ and then he took ahold of Muriel’s wrist. 

Gently. But he tensed his hand a little to make it look like he was holding firmly.

Please don’t flinch away from me, he thought, as if that could do anything to make Muriel feel better.

“Come on,” he said, his voice sharp again, firm, but less so than it was when he’d been talking to Ludovico. He just wanted to get Muriel out of there. As soon as he was able to close the doors, he’d ask Muriel if he was okay, brush his hair out of his face like usual, and ask how much he needed to pay off that debt. Then he’d tell Muriel where to hide until his shift ended, and he’d take him out saying that they were on a job. They’d go to Muriel’s, he’d explain everything, then they’d be fine. Perfectly fine.

Everything would be fine.

Asra’s fingers were hot against his skin, the magic still warm and crackling beneath his fingertips. It wasn’t the nice warmth, it wasn’t the nice buzz. At least not with the anxiety and the confusion churning through Muriel’s system. He didn’t even think before pulling his hand away, his features still dark and stoic. Muriel turned away from him, his hands on his chest. He flicked his eyes up to one of the guards. 

“Open the elevator,” he grumbled, voice low and gravely. 

The guards, already unnerved by the malice in Asra’s tone, suddenly scrambled to follow Muriel’s growled orders. The man with the scanner backed up and pressed his thumb to the button. There was a ding, one so achingly familiar it made Muriel’s breath catch, and the doors open. He didn’t let any of them notice as he started forward, head ducked, hands clenched into fists by his chest. He stepped into the elevator, trying to ignore how his chest clenched at the small quality of the elevator shaft itself. 

Ludovico looked at Asra, held his hands up, and stepped back. 

“Alright,” he sighed. “Go on and take him upstairs I guess. Just… watch yourself.” 

Asra didn’t say anything to that, but moved to stand beside Muriel and pressed the button for the top floor- Lucio’s floor. Julian looked at him for a moment, then at Muriel, and gestured to the left side of the elevator doors, where the stairs were.

And then the elevator doors were closing, with everyone watching to see if Muriel would act like the animal they knew he was or not. But it wasn’t until they’d started moving, the elevator beginning to rise, that Asra sighed and let his shoulders slump.

Almost immediately, he had turned and was facing Muriel, holding out his hands- an invite, a request for permission to touch him. Just like usual.

“Fuck, Muriel. What are you doing here? What happened?” His voice was steadier than he’d expected. He felt like he was going mad- trying to process that Muriel and the Scourge were the same person… it was too much. He knew the Scourge. He’d heard everything there was to hear! He’d not been around and working at the same times, and due to a few incidents he’d never been as focused on the Scourge and who that could have been. 

He’d been working under Lucio for years, only ever hearing of the bloodthirstiness of the brutal Scourge. And now he was finding out that that monster was Muriel? All this time?

The same man who had been stabbed twice and hadn’t flinched while he’d kicked unwanted guests out of Lucio’s office? The same man who was so intimidating, he could set people running with a dirty look? The beast that mained tens, allegedly killed hundreds- Muriel? He couldn’t believe it. He didn’t believe it. Either this was a sick sort of joke, or everything he’d heard about the Scourge was a lie. 

“Didn’t you have enough money? I thought you had enough money. You said you had a thousand, right? Wasn’t that enough?” Had he, somehow, caused this? By not giving Muriel enough? By telling Muriel to get something for himself? By letting Muriel get him that necklace- the very necklace that was clasped around his neck, visible in the open collar of his slightly unbuttoned shirt?

“He raised the payment to two thousand.” 

Muriel’s voice was surprisingly steady when he spoke, however it was also surprisingly dark. Distant. Again, Muriel felt like he’d been outside of his own body, watching the scene from up above, only getting some of the say in. That empty shell that stood beside Asra didn't feel any kind of anxiety, but the version of him that watched helplessly from above was simply paralyzed with it. He didn't know which was real. He didn't know which version of himself he felt more. 

He did know, however, that each ding of the elevator floor left both versions of him with a splitting migraine. 

Muriel turned his head away from Asra, eyes on the ground, hands still curled into fists at his sides. 

“You work here.” It wasn’t a question. “For him. You didn't tell me.” Muriel swallowed hard -- it clicked in his throat. His voice trembled just the slightest when he spoke again, the tone deep and husky, shuddering with the layers of emotion he couldn’t quite feel. “How much did you get paid for pretending to like me?” 

Did he believe that? Did he believe it was all a trick? Surely it couldn’t have been… Asra wouldn't have blown all that money… he wouldn't have spent all that time. All that time to make Muriel trust him, all that money just to get it paid back again by Lucio himself, whether it be in cash or all that filthy red wine. Muriel’s head hurt when he thought about it, but his heart hurt even more. Did boss ask you to keep an eye on him? It felt like a Lucio thing to do. It didn't feel like an Asra thing to do. 

But working for Lucio didn't feel like an Asra thing to do. And that new fact was finally sinking into Muriel’s system, past the layers of shock and dissociation. Asra worked for Lucio. 

That meant Muriel didn't know Asra at all. 

“What?”

The initial shock of the question was enough to break Asra’s train of thought, to stop his mind from reeling. To stop him from reaching for his back pocket, ready to give Muriel the money he needed to make it up, to feed him excuses to use when asked why he’d not just avoided the place. This, that, anything to get Muriel out of there.

He almost laughed, solely out of surprise.  
“Pretend?” he echoed, still stupefied. “Muriel- I wasn’t pretending. I didn’t know anything. I didn’t know until you told me you were in debt that you even had a connection with Lu- with that fucker.”

What could he do now? He wasn’t sure what other directions he could go in. He could offer to pay all of it off for Muriel- every last cent. But what would that do now? He’d make that money back in a week, and Muriel would still be upset at him or think that he was lying about whether or not they were friends. Friends. Yeah, that’s what they’d been. Just friends, who almost kissed, and went on dates, and cuddled. 

Hell, he shouldn’t get caught up on that. He and Muriel wouldn’t be anything in about thirty seconds, unless he did something about it. 

He took a step forward, though that hand that had been extended to Muriel had fallen back to his side now.  
“Muriel, come on. Look- I can clear it up, but what was I supposed to tell you? If you didn’t have a connection, it would have been too much to mention, and when I found out that you did, what was I supposed to do?”

Another step closer. He wasn’t sure if Muriel had taken a step back or not.  
“Can you give me your hand, Muriel? You’re- you’re clenching your fists again, and I don’t want you to hurt yourself doing that.”

Muriel closed his eyes and shook his head a little.   
“Everyone knows,” he said, voice still trembly. He felt his bottom lip begin to quiver too. “Everyone knows. Everyone- everyone who works for him knows who-... who I am- what I did…” 

Why was he stuttering? He still didn't feel the panic. He still didn't feel the heartbreak. He did feel his fingernails, though. Asra was right -- they were beginning to hurt, digging into his palms like that. 

“How could you not know? How… how could you not know?” Muriel continued, shaking his head. “Lucio wanted me back. He-... he would have done anything to keep an eye on me. How else would he have known I only had a thousand…?” 

Muriel was connecting dots that didn't need to be connected. He couldn’t help it -- his mind was turning. He felt like he’d only been looking at bits and pieces of a picture, like someone had scattered spots of ink across its surface and blocked out anything that could have made any sense.

‘Did boss ask you to keep an eye on him?’

Everything was spinning. The elevator’s dings were getting too loud. He felt like he couldn’t breathe, but his body wouldn't let him gasp or pant or struggle for air. 

“What else do you do for him?” Muriel asked weakly, his voice barely even a whisper that time. “You told me-... you didn't tell me anything about your job-... I should have realized.” I shouldn’t have trusted you. I should never have trusted you. 

And now I can’t take it back. 

“Muriel, breathe,” he said quietly, holding out his hands to offer them to Muriel again- only to have to pull back and straighten up when the elevator came to a stop. “We’ll figure this out,” he promised him, taking a few paces out of the elevator and glancing around, looking for a sign of anyone else. When he was content that there was nobody waiting to speak with Lucio, and no blond brats ready to throw a tantrum, he stepped out into the hallway. “We’ve got until Julian gets here to talk, okay? 

He hoped Muriel would talk to him. He should have known this would happen- he should have stopped, and thought about what could happen if he hadn’t prepared for Muriel’s return. He should have stopped. He should have thought. 

 

“Please, Muriel. Listen to me. I didn’t know that you were the Scourge. I knew about the Scourge, sure! Everyone does! Lucio never stopped telling stories about this and that, and we were all getting sick of hearing about it- but I never thought for a second that that was you!” This felt like it was all coming out wrong. Like his tongue was twisted and heavy in his mouth, spilling out the wrong word, the wrong phrase, the wrong promise. 

He wanted Muriel to think he didn’t care that he was the Scourge, but he did. He wanted Muriel to think he didn’t consider any of that, but he couldn’t stop himself. He’d never heard a good goddamn thing about the Scourge in all of his years working there. He’d never heard anything good, not even after he’d left- where Asra had grown resentful of someone that important just leaving. 

He didn’t know the Scourge was Muriel.

He didn’t think Muriel could have been the Scourge.

And now all those little things about “not knowing” what Muriel had done… were beginning to make sense.

Muriel didn't know what to say -- he couldn’t think. His eyes were closed but he felt the elevator come to a stop, he felt the gravity shift and his stomach turn. He heard the elevator doors open. Then Muriel heard Asra leave the elevator shaft, still talking to him, his voice like a drone of sound Muriel couldn’t quite understand. He moved without thinking, stepping out into the hall like the elevator had just run out of air to breathe. He stepped right past Asra, head ducked. Muriel’s breath finally shuddered, but he collected himself quickly. He heard Asra say his name from behind, but he didn't look back. He just walked out into the hall, not really knowing where he’d been going. 

Lucio’s office. Lucio’s office. The thought of it made him nauseous. 

On top of it all, his head still ached.

Asra caught up to him after a moment, not daring to reach out and touch him but instead moving to stand in front of him to cut off his path instead.  
“Muriel, please,” he started, but he wasn’t sure where he was going to go with that. Thankfully, though, he didn’t need to find anything to do- Julian burst out of the door beside the elevator with a yell, a mess of limbs and clumsiness. He’d either run and fallen, or aimed for a dramatic entrance to let Asra and Muriel know he was there.

Asra decided it was best not to think about it for too long.

“We just needed to wait for Julian,” he said instead, though, watching as Julian came and caught up with them, walking beside Muriel.

“So, big fella,” he started with, clearly angling for something to clear the mood. A swing and a miss. “I haven’t seen you since drinks! We ought to meet up again- the three of us.”  
“Julian-” Asra attempted, but went unnoticed.  
“It was nice, wasn’t it? What was it you drank- cherry cider?”

Muriel gave a deep breath, ducking his head and pinching his eyes closed. 

“Leave me alone,” he grumbled out. His head was spinning, his head ached. He felt like he was going to be sick. The thoughts kept circling around and around. Muriel was lucky he still felt disconnected from his body -- if he was whole, and if all his feelings were his again, he probably would double over and get sick all over Lucio’s carpeted hall. 

Lucio’s hall. Lucio’s.

Lucio’s door was just up ahead. Muriel stopped at it, waiting for someone else to open it. Someone else to knock. There was no guard stationed beside it, no look out. That was always Muriel’s job… he couldn’t help but wonder if Lucio cleared it open just for him. 

You know what happens next. 

Julian seemed like he was about to say something else, but a sharp look from Asra and his eyes had widened before averting. Asra moved ahead, tapping twice on the door and waiting for that same frustrated “Enter!” before he pushed it open.

And there Lucio sat.

He wore his white suit again today, hair readily slicked back, his makeup done with the same sort of flair as usual- as if he’d anticipated Muriel’s arrival. As if he wanted to look his best, so that when he was imprinted into Muriel’s memories anew, he’d at least be looking handsome. 

He didn’t look up from the money he was counting- not until Julian moved forward and dropped the wad of cash onto Lucio’s desk. He reached over to take it with a freshly polished golden arm, sharp metal fingers closing around the stack and adding it to his pile of uncounted cash. He slid over another chunk of money, what could be easily assumed to be a thousand, and then lifted his gaze.

“My, what a surprise to see the two of you on time,” he said, eyes fixed on Julian for now, then flicking to Asra.

Then landing on Muriel.

The smile on his lips was all too eager. All too cruel. All too familiar.  
“And you’ve brought along a friend, I see.” He was pushing up out of his chair now, tugging his jacket to smoothen it out, his malicious red eyes not leaving Muriel for a moment. “Scourge. It’s been too long! Come closer, I’ve already got your business plan worked out. We can get that dealt with nice and quick, then I can get back to counting my… hard-earned money, and you can go back to picking at cars in South End, or whatever it is you do now.”

He gestured for Muriel to come closer, and for a moment it looked like Asra was going to speak up.

But he didn’t.

“We have plenty to discuss, Scourge.”

Muriel felt his breath stutter when Lucio waved him closer. He felt the hesitation. The clear want to stay rooted where he was -- the clear need to stand in place, far away from Lucio’s touchy hands and wine tainted breath. But all that wanting, all that needing, it felt as distant as the panic did. The body that was standing before Lucio and his desk, in Lucio’s office, surrounded by Lucio’s plaques and paintings and those damned paperweights… it was empty. It was obedient. 

It moved forward without argument, dark eyes trained forward at the opposite wall. He didn't look down at Lucio. 

“Yes, sir, we do,” Muriel muttered, his throat dry, his tone gruff. 

Lucio reached over and tugged at Muriel’s shirt, reading the name of whatever band it was this time with a look of distaste in his eyes.  
“And a uniform change, by the looks of things. You were better off working here, anyway. Decent clothes, decent food, and no oily, broken cars to fix.”

The obedience made him smile, his gaze flicking up to Muriel. He took a folder that was sitting on his desk- unlabelled, but kept within reach for the day Muriel inevitably returned. He set it out in front of him, opening it.  
“Your debt… you know as well as I do that you’d never have been able to pay it off with those measly thousands, Scourge. Luckily for you, I’m kind and generous enough to give you a nicer alternative than other debtors get. I think a few years working would be enough, don’t you?”

Behind Muriel, Julian seemed to be connecting dots (he, like Asra, had never known the Scourge. He’d only moved to Vesuvia and joined after the Scourge had left), and Asra was almost sparking with the sheer volume of anger radiating off of him. He wanted to take Muriel out of there, to attack Lucio for talking to Muriel like that- like he was stupid, an animal, or like he was taunting him. But he couldn’t- he had to stand down, step aside. 

Speaking up in Muriel’s defense could get him in trouble.

Not speaking up could make Muriel more upset at him.

“With jobs every week- well, you’ll hardly need to be a mechanic. Or wouldn’t need to be, provided all the money for this weren’t going to pay off your debt. Isn’t that what you said last time? You didn’t want my dirty money?”

Muriel stiffened when Lucio touched him — his whole body going rigid. He flicked his eyes off to the side, but he didn’t squirm beneath Lucio’s fingertips on his shirt. Lucio would get mad at him. He didn’t like it when Muriel shied away from him. 

“I don’t,” Muriel grumbled, swallowing hard. He could feel Julian and Asra behind him — he felt vulnerable with their gazes pinned to his back. “I don’t need your money. I just want the jobs, and then I’m done. Again.”

He cleared his throat a little. Muriel hoped his heart wasn’t pounding in his chest. Lucio was close enough to hear it, if he pressed his hand against him, he would be close enough to feel it. And then he’d mention it — mention it in the worst of ways. Lucio was good at embarrassing him, good at making him want to shy away. Like he was teasing, like he wanted Muriel to make him angry. Then his reactions would be justified. 

Lucio watched him for a few moments longer. Studying him. Surveying. He’d noticed Muriel tensing up, but he didn’t comment on that. He’d save it for later, to comment on how nervous Muriel always was. For now, he had more to focus on.

“Tomorrow, I’ve got a deal. I need a bodyguard, in case things get ugly. That’ll be your first job.” He opened a drawer, reached in, and set a burner phone down on the desk in front of Muriel. “I’ll contact you on there with the details.”

There was no shame with Lucio reaching out and flicking Muriel’s hair out of his face. Asra almost moved forward there and then, seeing how Lucio flicked it away like he did- like he had spent days working up the trust to get permission to do. 

“It’s shorter than I like it,” he said, voice blunt. “You look more intimidating with your hair longer, but if it’s shorter now, you’ll need to keep it out of your face. I don’t want you getting another nick like that.” A golden finger ran over the angular scar on Muriel’s cheek, lightly scratching it. Muriel struggled to keep from pulling away. “And you’d better clean up nice, too. I’ve got a party in a few days that I want to be looking perfect, and I’ll be having you by my side. We can get you fitted for a proper suit again, instead of leaving you to wear something with as much charm as…”

He gestured to Muriel’s outfit. An insult, obviously, but it meant that Lucio moved back. That same sneering grimace was on his lips again as he once more looked over the dirty shirt and jeans. It wouldn’t do at all- not if Muriel would be working under him. Of course, the money for the suits would end up coming out of Muriel’s paycheck, but… he didn’t need to know that.

“That. Either way, that should be all for now. I’ll need a word with Asra and Jules, but I want you getting used to working again. Stand there and be intimidating. Be yourself.”

Muriel looked to where Lucio had been gesturing — that golden claw that skimmed against the rugged skin of his scar pointed toward an empty spot just beside Lucio’s chair. Muriel closed his eyes and gave a quiet sort of breath, before nodding his head and moving behind the desk. He held his hands behind his back, and stood still behind the desk.

He didn’t want Lucio to see how much his comment hurt him — but it prickled and ached in his chest, it caused his bottom lip to tremble. He kept his eyes on the floor. Muriel wouldn’t look at Asra. He wouldn’t look at Julian. He didn’t think he’d be able to look either of them in the eye. He didn’t think he’d be able to witness their reactions. Their disgust. 

His head was still spinning. Muriel tried not to feel dizzy. He kept himself still and stiff, even as Lucio moved back behind his desk and settled down in his chair. 

Asra and Julian approached the desk, and just like Muriel, he kept his eyes fixed elsewhere. He knew Muriel would hate it if he stared, and he didn’t want Muriel to think he hated him all of a sudden.

He didn’t even realise that he was glaring. He definitely didn’t realise that he was glaring at Lucio until it was mentioned.

“Why so cross, Asra? I’ve not even assigned you your work yet,” he said, that crooked grin curling back up onto his lips. “Ah, I remember… this is your first time meeting my Scourge, isn’t it? And after all those years of insisting that you hated him, too. What a nice way to introduce yourselves to each other.”

Muriel couldn’t stop the expression of pain that crossed over his features. The paling of his face, the furrow of his brow, the darkening of his eyes. He closed them for a moment, his teeth sinking into the inside of his bottom lip. When he opened his eyes, he didn't dare look at Asra. 

Julian almost opened his mouth to say something- something else, to sway the conversation, but Asra sent such a harsh glare in his direction that he decided it was best not to.

“Well, if you have nothing to say to me, let’s get working,” Lucio said, turning his focus to the money that was sitting on his desk again, starting to flick through it once more. He wasn’t even counting it- just running through it. Just letting more money than Muriel had owned in his months sit in one hand, flicking it with his nails.

“You two are especially lucky to be let off with a lighter workload. You see, with my upcoming party…”


	17. Elevator Rides

Asra hadn’t gone home. He couldn’t have.

There was no way he could have just left after anything like that. Instead, he’d cast a quick spell - nothing flashy - that made glowing headphones settle in his ears. Wires twisted around his fingers as he twirled and span them, before releasing it and watching it attach itself to the door. 

The conversation inside was boosted immediately, the count’s voice filling his ears with it’s typical arrogance. The cable followed him as he paced, trailing along the floor as Asra walked. He couldn’t stand still, too worked up.

“-is the good thing about getting this job, Scourge. You can keep all that cash you earn at your other job, and use it for the little things. Like making yourself look good, and clothes that haven’t been worn before you got them.”

And that goddamn voice in his ears wasn’t making it any better. Lucio always knew just how to work him up, how to get on his last nerve and making his system spin webs of angry discomfort. 

Especially hearing Lucio chastise Muriel for wearing what he could afford on the scrapings he’d earned. The pennies he saved going towards new clothes when rent and debt had been paid, when food was on the table. When he knew that Inanna wouldn’t go hungry. Lucio only ever cared about presentation, even if it was impossible for someone else to keep up those precise standards.

If anything good came out of it, it’d be Muriel getting clothes that fit him well.

“We’ll get your measurements next time you’re here, hm? I’ll call in someone to get you fitted. I didn’t expect you to be back so soon, or I would have had someone in today.” He put something away in a drawer- likely a wad of money, which was tucked away in the drawer and set aside. Likely Muriel’s counted money. “You could have been perfect at this work, I still don’t see why you’d choose some lousy mechanic gig over this.”

“I don’t like this work. I don’t like you.” 

Muriel didn't mean to say that. The words left him before he even realized he’d parted his lips… however there wasn’t much conviction to the weak little mutter. Muriel’s voice had been empty when he answered. The numbness of his system could be heard in his tone. The dreary defeat. It had settled there ever since he stood beside Lucio behind the desk. Ever since he heard Lucio croon out the painful fact that Asra hated him -- hated the idea of him -- all that time. 

Ever since he didn't hear any kind of refusal from Asra himself. 

Each time he’d think of Asra, even feel Asra’s name whisper itself from somewhere deep in his conscious, Muriel’s stomach would twist and his chest would burn. The feelings were painful and… alien. Of course, he could relate them to things he’d felt before: fear, worry, panic, even anger. However… something about that feeling… something about feeling that feeling about Asra… 

It made things different. 

It made things worse. 

Muriel didn't know whether or not he wanted to know why. He didn't know whether or not he cared enough to. 

A sharp bark of laughter escaped Lucio, though that had to have been forced. It was more of a ‘that had better be a joke’ than anything else. Metallic thrumming, and Lucio was drumming his golden nails on the desk again. His patience was running thin- that should have been a dead giveaway. 

“Do you think I care what you like or don’t like, Scourge? You work for me. Everyone here works for me, no matter whether they like it or not. I don’t care if you don’t like me, because at the end of the day, I’m the one who got you where you are now. You would be dead without getting my help when you needed it. Now you have to repay the favour, or I’ll put you back where you were. I have influence, Scourge.”

The shifting of a seat and Asra guessed that Lucio was leaning forwards. The sharp clicking of metal on wood and he’d tapped the desk in front of himself, most likely to draw Muriel’s gaze towards him.

“I gave you everything you have,” he hissed, voice so low that the magic almost didn’t carry it. “I can take it all away again, just as easily. Your home, your job, your friends. I could get myself a new pet wolf.”

A few beats of tense, uncomfortable silence. Lucio wasn’t looking for a response, just letting the words sink in before he spoke again.

“I don’t care whether you like me or not. You have a job, and if you let me down even once, I’ll take things from you. One by one.” Then his voice lowered, and Asra only caught onto a sharp ‘Need I remind you…’ before it was lost again. 

There was another long silence before Asra could hear anything again. The next sound was a murmur -- a quiet, shameful little murmur in Muriel’s soft, defeated voice.

“Yes sir. You’re absolutely right.” Another pause of silence, one where Lucio waited in bitter patience for Muriel to continue. “I’m at your disposal.” 

Muriel didn't know how to respond, how much more to agree. He’d already been nodding, his eyes were already cast down to the floor. His lips were already pressed into a thin frown, his brow furrowed and his hands balled into tight fists at his sides. His gaze was distant and heavy lidded, the mind behind his irises looking cloudy and dazed. He felt tired. Toyed with by fate, pushed and pulled at and exhausted by the hands of poor fortune. Muriel just wanted to be alone. No matter where it was, he wanted to be alone. 

Alone to process, alone to get sick, alone to cry, alone to panic. 

Alone to plan. 

For then, however, he would remain a tired shell of himself. A sad tired shell. A broken one. 

It took a long time for either of them to speak again -- Muriel waiting for Lucio, Lucio waiting for Muriel. The conversation continued when Muriel cleared his throat, his voice a little louder when he spoke. 

A little less pathetic. 

“Would it be alright if I left, sir?” he asked gruffly. “My familiar… she’s home all alone…”

Lucio’s lips curled into a sneer at the mention of Muriel’s familiar.  
“The wolf?” he asked, disgust pervasive in his tone. As if the thought of such a beast was repulsive to him.

Though he paused and mulled it over. He hadn’t brought in Mercedes and Melchior that day - they sat tucked away in his room to prevent him from getting distracted from work - and he missed them terribly already. That must have been why he sighed and nodded, waving his hand to show that Muriel could leave.

 

“Fine,” he said finally, “I haven’t any other meetings, so I don’t need you lingering around. It’s best not to pay you if I don’t need to, hm?”

But he settled back in his chair, his arms settling crossed over his chest.  
“Dismissed,” he then added, just for good measure, watching Muriel to see him leave. He’d have to remind him later about looking so sad - Muriel didn’t look intimidating when he was miserable, which defeated the point of having him as a bodyguard. 

Muriel looked up at him -- not in the eyes, of course, more around his chin and his lips -- and then nodded. 

He just turned around without another word, and started toward the door. Muriel didn't know when he’d come to terms with reality, when he’d start to really feel the horror of the situation. Perhaps when he got back home to Inanna? During the ride home, in a taxi or an Uber? Maybe even in the lonesome ride in the elevator down to the lobby? Or maybe he would be hit with it all the moment he stepped outside Lucio’s office.

No, that wasn’t right. 

Instead Muriel was hit with a very different sort of feeling when he opened Lucio’s door, and found himself standing before a rather distraught looking Asra. 

Muriel couldn’t wallow in whatever had plunged deep into his system. He couldn’t afford to feel that burn in his chest nor the twist of his stomach. In an instant he’d flicked his eyes to the floor. Muriel stuffed his hands into his pockets and stepped around Asra, as though the magician hadn’t even been standing there. His head was ducked low, bangs swept over his features to hide his face.

He didn't stop. Muriel passed him, and began to make his way to the elevator, ignoring Asra despite the way his skin prickled. Despite the way his system churned -- those feelings angry and confusing… foreign and discombobulating. 

He just needed to be alone… he just needed to be alone...

Asra was coiling the magic up around his fingers again, letting it retract, letting the ‘cable’ fade away to hide the evidence of his eavesdropping. Lucio might not have been magic, but if someone had been using magic to spy on his private conversations then it wouldn’t be much of a question as to who it had been.

“Muriel, wait,” he found himself saying, watching Muriel brush right past him and picking up his own pace to follow after him. “Muriel- please, just-”

He should have realised that he wasn’t going to be listened to, but he was too stubborn. Giving up on all of this now? When he was already face to face with Muriel? He couldn’t just let defeat come that quickly. He couldn’t let this chance, whatever the two of them had, it couldn’t slip through his fingertips. 

But what would he do, even if he did catch Muriel? Where would he even start? What was he supposed to say? He was sure Muriel didn’t want to hear whatever excuses could be thrown at him, or whatever apologies Asra had to give him, but he at least had to try. He had to show that he was sorry, even if Muriel wouldn’t believe it. 

He caught up to Muriel just as he was rounding into the elevator, stopping off beside him and pressing the button to close the doors. It was a bit of a jerk move, but he didn’t want Muriel to walk out in order to avoid conflict.

Muriel heard his footsteps behind him even before he’d run forward and stopped the elevator. He’d turned his body and then his head, deliberately blocking Asra from his line of sight. A deep huff left Muriel’s lips when he heard the button beneath Asra’s fingers click, when he heard the elevator clunk to a stop. 

“Stop,” Muriel grumbled, his voice still distant and quiet. The single word felt weird, he didn't know exactly what he’d been telling Asra to do. Stop holding the button? Stop chasing him? Stop looking at him? He could feel Asra’s eyes, he could feel their desperate nature even with his body turned away. It made that strange feeling churn worse than before. 

He needed to be alone. He needed to be alone. 

“Leave me alone,” he said. That was what he wanted, right? Muriel’s tired mind was spinning. He didn't know what he wanted from Asra. Nothing? Nothing. “Just… stop…”

“I need to talk to you,” he said, taking a step closer to Muriel. “We need to… we have to talk. Something- I can’t just let you leave without trying. I need to explain a lot and- and I don’t want you to walk away from me when I do.”

He pulled his hand away from the elevator buttons and their descent began. Asra was on borrowed time - there wasn’t even a full minute before it would reach the bottom floor and Muriel would leave. And Asra would lose his chance to talk to him. Then what? He didn’t want to work alongside Muriel, to become colleagues and later be nothing to each other again. He just wanted to get this issue resolved.

“Please. If I talk, Muriel, will you listen to me?” ‘It’ll be easier on us both that way.’ He couldn’t let this moment slip. “I just need a few moments.” ‘I never want to stop being by your side.’ 

Muriel tensed at the sound of Asra’s voice, but he didn't even attempt to look. He kept himself turned around, stepping a good pace away from Asra behind him -- feeling claustrophobic in the small space of the elevator. Every chime of every passing floor hurt his head. Every word that spilled from Asra’s lips hurt his chest, hurt his heart. 

“No,” was his simple response. “No. I don’t want to.” 

He needed Asra to listen. Muriel was too tired, his mind and system was too weary. Everything was spinning so fast and Muriel didn't even have the strength to clasp onto something for safety. The elevator chimed again. Muriel’s eyes pinched closed. 

“Just leave me alone.” 

“Please, Muriel,” he insisted, taking another step closer. “I can’t just let you leave. I can’t- I can’t lose you. I need to talk to you, but I want you to listen. I don’t- this wasn’t meant to happen.”

He knew he should have stopped by then. Part of his system wanted him to stop, to take a step back and give up, to let Muriel have his silence and leave, but he couldn’t. The idea of just stopping and staying still, of leaving… it was too much. The thought that he could lose Muriel to this bullshit, to this whole situation with Lucio - he felt sickened by it.

He couldn’t lose someone else to this job.

Not again.

“Did you run out of money? I thought we had this covered - what happened?”

Asra’s emotion had sounded so genuine, so real -- but for some reason Muriel’s system rejected it. Whispers crept up from behind him and breathed down his neck. ‘He’s lying,’ they said. ‘Lying…” Each whisper felt like chord wrapping itself tighter around his throat, around his heart. Muriel had to clear his throat, half because he hoped to speak, and half to try and see if it would help him breathe. He was breathing, wasn’t he? Muriel knew he was because he’d been focusing on keeping each one steady. 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he murmured. “I don’t want to talk.”

“Please, Muriel,” Asra pressed, taking a step closer. He sounded so desperate and pleading - his head was too clouded to filter out the tone from his words, to hide the neediness. He couldn’t have Muriel turn him away. Not now, not when he was so close to getting through to him. “Listen to me. We were friends, weren’t we?”

The elevator chimed as they droned past another floor. Closer and closer the lobby loomed, shorter and shorter their time together became. Muriel’s eyes pinched closed. He still kept his body turned away from Asra. He counted the seconds of silence, impatient for the final note of the elevator.

‘I don’t want to lose you.’

Asra sounded so genuine before... 

‘We were friends. Weren’t we?’

Muriel’s heart was picking up in his chest, but he didn't know why. Lucio’s voice was in his ears, telling him to lean up from his slouch, to keep from looking too sad. Have your breakdowns on your own time -- that’s what he’d always say. 

Were. Why’d Asra use that word? Were. That meant before Asra found out. Before Asra knew he was the Scourge. After all those years of hating the mere idea of him… 

Muriel could feel the elevator shift in gravity as they sank downwards. Perhaps that had been what was making his stomach feel so sick. 

“For the last time, Asra, I don't want to talk about it,” he said, his voice gruff -- heavy and strong, built up with the walls he’d learned to forge. Brick by brick. ‘Have your breakdowns on your own time.’ 

“Then listen,” Asra continued, not looking away from Muriel for a second, taking a step closer to him still. Even if there wasn’t much room in the elevator, even if he logically knew that he shouldn’t have been so forceful to try and get anything from Muriel. He wouldn’t respond if he was being pushed. Asra knew that. He already knew. He just wasn’t in the right space to put that knowledge to use.

“I wasn’t hired,” was the first thing he said. It felt like the most important thing. If he couldn’t get anything else through to Muriel, he wanted that to be what stuck. “Lucio never hired me to meet you. I’d- I never knew that you were… I didn’t know you had connections until you told me!” He caught himself, noting his tone, and dialled it back. He moved away a little again, trying to ground himself. Trying to focus on Muriel’s needs, not his own.

“It was a coincidence. I didn’t know you were the Scourge. I wouldn’t have gotten so involved if I did! When we met, I was on a job- and it was by chance that my car broke down. It was by chance that you stopped to help. It was just by chance that any of that happened. It was all an accident!” He felt like he was saying it all wrong, but he couldn’t think of how to say it right.

Accident. There was no reason for the word to sting, but it did -- the phrase pierced him deep. Made his eyes snap open and his jaw muscles pulse with a painful clench of his teeth. Muriel shook his head a little, trying to focus on his breathing. 

Trying to focus on breathing past the lump forming in his throat.

“Of course you didn't know I was the Scourge,” Muriel said, his voice still fortified with a stoic emotionlessness. “How could… how could I be the Scourge? Someone like me. I’d never hurt a fly, right? I-... I was too good for that, right?” 

Muriel grit his teeth again. His hands squeezed into fists -- opening and closing, like they needed something to do. There was energy under his skin that Muriel didn't know what to do with. Every chime of the elevator hurt his head. His throat felt thick and his eyes felt hot. 

‘We were friends, weren’t we?’

Were.

“Now you know I’m nothing good at all. Now you know I’m the thing you’ve hated all these years.” He ducked his head and closed his eyes again. There was too much emotion. Muriel could suddenly feel it spilling back into him -- back into the concave space he’d been left with for most of the night before. The elevator chimed again. It chimed with every floor it passed. Each one was like an iron stake, pressing deep into tender skin of his temples. 

“I don’t want to talk. I don’t want to listen.” He wanted to focus on his breathing. It was losing him, all of a sudden. The spill of his emotions caused him to lose track. There was too much acid burning away at his gut, too much fire in his chest, too much electricity in his veins and sizzling beneath his skin. “Just leave me alone.” 

“It isn’t that.” Asra moved to stand in front of him, to stand in his line of sight, just to be seen by him. Anything if it meant that Muriel wouldn’t refuse to look at him so desperately “It’s not like that at all, Muriel. I don’t want to leave you alone. I don’t want to leave you to deal with this all alone- I couldn’t just turn around and abandon you after this long!”

This couldn’t be it for them. He had to be with Muriel more, he didn’t want to be away from him. Whatever they had, whether real or not, he didn’t want it to end like this. It just couldn’t.

“It is like that, Asra,” Muriel huffed, his previously fortified tone beginning to tremble. He turned his head as if he meant to look over his shoulder. The hair that Lucio wanted him to tie back fell over his face, brushed over his forehead and swept across his cheeks. He didn't have to look at Asra if he didn't want to. He didn't have to do anything for Asra if he didn't want to. “I am the Scourge you’ve hated. All of the stories are about me. They don’t even begin to… they don’t even scratch the surface of everything I’ve done… I know you hate me. Just… just stop…”

He turned around again, spinning on his heel and stepping away from Asra the best he could. For some reason, Muriel felt out of breath. His chest was tight and his head was beginning to lighten, his body heavier than it should have been. He lifted a hand and held it against the elevator wall, fingers splayed as he tried to balance himself. 

The elevator chimed. His face was warm -- something was tickling it. Something that wasn’t his hair tickled and trailed down his cheeks and clung to his jaw. Muriel didn't focus on it. Every bit of his willpower was focused on collecting his breath. 

“I’m serious, Asra. Leave me alone.” 

“Why are you so desperate to push me away? I just want you to listen to me, Muriel, please just listen!” he pressed still, though the sight of tears on Muriel’s face made his stomach churn. Nothing but guilt plagued him, weights settled in his stomach with the weight of the choices he’d made to put them both in this position.

It was tearing him apart. Again and again he’d opted for the things that would be easier, better for him, and this was where it had gotten him. Now he felt like he had to try something. That he had to do something else, something that wasn’t easy. 

“I don’t want to stop being with you. I don’t want this to be what ruins us. I never want to stop being with you, and I don’t care-”

“I told you to stop!”

Finally, Muriel had raised his voice. It was thick and husky, heavier than he’d expected it to be. He turned around with that, looking over his shoulder to glare his narrow, tear brimmed eyes directly into Asra’s. Strands of hair stuck to his face with the moisture of his tears. His features were sour, his nose wrinkled and his eyes puffy and red, lips curled back in a trembling scowl. It was almost like there was anger there… but Muriel knew it wasn’t really anger. 

It was fear. It was sadness. It was bitterness. It was despair. 

But it wasn’t anger. Muriel didn't think he could ever be angry with Asra. He could be frustrated with the inescapability of their inevitable situation, but he could never be mad at Asra. 

“You know. It’s… whatever we had it’s gone because you know,” Muriel said, his breath hiccuping. Muriel wasn’t focusing on exactly what he was saying. Or on how he was saying it. The words were free to just spill past his lips. “Just hate me. Hate me. It’s out. You know. Now you need to hate me. Hate me like everyone else does. Hate me like I do.” 

The elevator chimed again, the gears clunking. The mechanics stuttered, and then they stopped. One final note, and the doors began to slide open. Muriel looked at the stunned Asra, whose eyes were wide ever since Muriel had raised his voice. Perhaps he was scared. 

Perhaps that was the best. 

“Just hate me like you hate the Scourge,” Muriel muttered. 

And with that, he turned toward the open door of the lobby, and he left. 

Muriel didn't wait. Muriel didn't look back. He didn't even give the guards a chance to taunt him.

He just left. 

And Asra watched him go.

The image of Muriel’s tear-streaked face was still stuck in Asra’s head when he finally got back home. He pulled into the driveway and got out, going to his apartment without greeting anyone. He was social often, even in the worst of moods in any other situation, so it was clear that something was bothering him. Something bad.

He went to his room, still thinking of Muriel, his stomach twisting itself into knots at the thought of what their relationship had been, what it could have been, and what it would now never be again.

He’d ruined it. 

He washed his face and set Faust to sleep, but he didn’t make himself anything to eat and just tugged his shirt off to sleep, settling in bed and closing his eyes. A low sigh escaped him and he stared blankly at the ceiling.

His mind was reeling and his emotions had been so conflicting on the drive back that they were all but muted now, leaving him under a suffocating blanket of empty apathy.

It was a restless night for him, spent in an uneasy sleep or agitated awakeness. Just thinking of Muriel, and how the butterflies he’d felt yesterday were now weighted, guilty rocks in his stomach.


	18. The Party

“Sir, please, I need you to stop moving.” 

It was the third time the tailor had to murmur out to quiet phrase, and it was the most impatient of the three. It was said with a deep sort of sigh and through slightly gritted teeth, the words thin and teetering on the brink of icy. Muriel could only nod, like he had nodded the past two times he’d been scolded, and try to hold himself as still as he could. 

He’d only been fitted for a suit once before, and that suit was long gone. Muriel rid himself of it the moment he’d gotten out of Lucio’s grasp, selling it to some rental shop for a handful of cash. He always hated the look of it, the touch of it -- what it meant and what it linked him to. Despite all of that loathing, however, Muriel regretted giving it away. If he still had it, stashed deep in a closet somewhere or tucked beneath his bed, he wouldn't have had to get fitted again. 

Count Lucio’s party was to be held only six hours from then. Muriel’s first job as the Scourge again was the keep watchful guard of the Count all party long -- to sit and stay still and silent whenever Lucio would show him off or touch his hair or tug on his suit. Most of Lucio’s employees would be there on watch as well. Higher employees, trusted employees, would be there for pleasure. 

Asra was going to be there for pleasure. 

The tailor’s studio wasn’t cold, but Muriel felt like shivering. Uncomfortable chills thrummed through the flesh of his back with every touch of that stranger’s hand against his skin. Muriel stood, dreadfully exposed, wearing a mesh shirt and trousers as the tailor measured his waist and his arms -- muttering beneath his breath whenever Muriel would flinch or squirm away. His body was on full display. His scars were on full display. It didn't help that the Count was sitting at the table by the wall, watching with narrowed eyes and a sly smirk as his Scourge was fitted and tailored. 

The tailor pulled the measurement tape a little tighter around Muriel’s waist. He flinched again, breath stuttering as he flicked his gaze down to the tailor. 

“Too tight,” Muriel said, his mouth dry, his voice nothing but a croak of sound. 

The tailor shrugged. “It’s supposed to be tight,” he said. “Fitted suits, remember? Besides, I’m being paid extra to make sure the suit meets his-” the man nodded his head toward Lucio, “-standards. He wants a tight suit.” 

“I don’t want a tight suit,” Muriel argued, voice a little louder than he wanted it to be. He’d been mumbling earlier, in a tone that the Count hopefully wouldn't be able to hear. Then, however, his words were almost loud enough to echo about the studio. He swallowed hard and looked down to the floor, shivering again -- whole body flushed with an uncomfortable red. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter. “At least make it a little looser.” 

“I want you to show off your muscles, not your stupidity,” Lucio said from where he was, drumming his golden fingers on the table. Just as Muriel had hoped, he hadn’t been able to hear any murmur before that one, but he’d heard all of the responses that Muriel had been given. “This isn’t being tailored to your standards, they’re been tailored to fit mine.”

He got up from where he’d been leaning on the table and began to approach Muriel. Either he didn’t notice how uncomfortable it seemed to make him, or he didn’t care - the latter was more likely. 

His eyes darted from Muriel’s face to his meshed shirt, lingered in one of the least subtle ways possible, then flicked back up to catch his gaze again.   
“It looks good like this. Better than it would be if it were however you’d like it.” 

And as if the awkward tension and the sharp comments weren’t enough, Lucio then chose to reach up and flick some of Muriel’s hair away from his face.  
“We need to do something about this,” he added, his lips curling up into more of a shit-eating grin. “We’ll get that done after your fitting, Scourge. How much longer?”

Muriel’s brow furrowed at Lucio’s comment about his hair. He pulled back a bit, out of instinct, his nerves wired and strained from all of the tailor’s unwelcomed touches. Muriel regretted the flinch the very instant he noticed the surprised twitch of Lucio’s fingers. 

But he didn't move back.

The tailor spoke, stalling the consequences of Muriel’s actions. 

“I’m about done with the measurements,” he said, taking the tape measure from Muriel’s waist and rolling it up. He stood up a little straighter, looking Muriel up and down. “I’ve got pants that will fit him, but I’ll have to do some tuning up to his jacket. I can get that done in an hour and thirty minutes, tops.” 

The tailor reached back for a white button up shirt, hanging upon a metal rack beside him. He flicked up the tag behind the collar, checked the size, eyed Muriel for a moment, and then turned to Lucio. 

“This will fit him, too -- not loose, like you requested,” he said, holding out the hanger for the Count to take. “Normal price as always, sir, with the normal discount. You can wait here for the jacket, or you can leave and wait for my message. Perhaps… fix his hair, like you mentioned.” The man’s eyes had flicked up to Muriel’s bangs, his brow rising a little higher upon his head at the sight of them. 

“His hair ought to be fixed,” Lucio murmured, turning to Muriel. “Get out of that. I’ll take you through to be groomed. Then we can discuss the plans for tonight while we wait for your jacket to be finished.”

Muriel did urgently need to be cleaned up after. It was about time that he got a haircut, and the stubble growing along his jaw needed to be dealt with. His party was that evening and he’d been so busy focusing on the state Muriel had been in that he wasn’t ready. He’d give Muriel a few hours after his fitting and before the party to… recollect himself. He knew that Muriel wasn’t anywhere near as tolerant of crowds as he was, so this could have been pinned down to generosity if he were anyone else.

“And be quick about it,” he added, moving around Muriel and the tailor to get to the door. He’d be waiting for Muriel out there, giving him some semblance of privacy while he got into the scrappy mechanic clothes he’d brought with him. Muriel wasn’t known for being overly considerate with what he was wearing, so Lucio didn’t want anything getting damaged. Especially not on such short notice. 

Not even if it would give him an excuse for a punishment and a reason to take money from Muriel’s earnings.

 

Muriel watched Lucio walk off, his eyes a little wider than they’d been before. Despite Lucio’s impatient quip, the command for him to change with haste, Muriel stayed where he was, reaching a hand up to his head. His fingertips met his hair, gently skimming the curtain of bangs across his forehead. 

“Fixed...” he said very quietly. The murmur was said to himself -- the tailor had left him to go get working on his jacket. Muriel just stood where he was, feeling a terrible sort of apprehension stirring in his gut. “What does fixed mean?” 

No one was there to answer him. 

~~~

The party started at six, however guests had been lined up at the door by five fifteen. The guests that stood in the chilly winds of the city just outside the lobby of the Palace -- which had been rented out and cleaned, transformed into a place of eloquent celebration -- had been the ones without VIP entrance. Those were the folks without the assurance of getting an invitation to such a gathering each year, the ones that would work for Count Lucio’s approval in the days leading up to his creating of the guest list, the ones who’d jump and celebrate when they received the little white card with its handwritten golden calligraphy. 

Those who received their VIP passes were allowed to begin filing in about thirty minutes before the party started. Those were the rich folks. Prominent political figures Lucio had wrapped around his golden finger, powerful mob bosses that would keep to themselves and the snack tables, or just some of the best of Lucio’s men. Asra was a part of that last category. Muriel knew deep down in his gut that had to have been true, that he would have to watch out for a familiar tuft of white hair in the scattered crowd that filed in at five thirty on that dreary Friday night. 

Lucio, as per usual, got what he wanted. Muriel’s suit was tight. It accented the build of his chest and of his arm muscles, the fabric hugging close to every curve. It felt claustrophobic, standing there in that rich back suit, the shirt collar and tie tight around his neck. Each time he’d lift a hand to tug at it or adjust his jacket, Count Lucio would clear his throat, or tell him to stop fussing with it. The Count reacted the same way whenever Muriel would lift his hands to touch his hair. 

Or… or what was left of his hair…

He’d gotten it cut. Short. No longer could he duck his head and hide his face, hide his facial scars, behind a curtain of his own locks. Lucio had taken the little semblance of comfort away, ordering the hair stylist to slick back any strand of hair that could even stray across his forehead. Muriel kept reaching to brush away hair that wasn’t there, his fingers brushing against the cleaned up stubble that still, luckily, covered his chin. The back of his neck felt cold and unprotected, as did his ears and his scars -- all of which would have been hidden behind his hair. 

Muriel couldn’t quite grasp the reality of that just yet. He’d watched the hairstylist snip away his bangs. He’d felt the strange lightness of his head when he leaned up or turned his head. But still, it felt like a temporary thing. He’d leave the party, take a shower to relieve himself of all the product, and his hair would be back. Of course he knew such a miracle would never happen… but somewhere deep inside, he couldn’t feel the worry or the distaste. 

It would be back. Tomorrow morning it would be back. 

Muriel was stood by Lucio’s side. The Count was sitting comfortably by the front of the room, greeting guests as they walked by to thank him for the special invitation. He was ordered to stay quiet and look scary -- to do what he did best, as Lucio had stated -- so Muriel did so. And he did so without the collar or the chains. Such a fact made him lucky, he supposed. Made him grateful. Lucio hadn’t even bothered to mention them yet. 

Muriel just figured he forgot about them. 

Over the already loud chatter and music in the ballroom, Julian’s voice managed to carry remarkably well. He was talking about how he ‘Didn’t see the point!’ in something, and if anyone were to look over they’d see Asra thumping him in the arm and telling him to be quiet, to watch his volume. 

Asra had a glass of orange fanta in one hand, steering clear of the alcohol not only because he had to get home after this, but because Julian needed someone to reel him in. If they were both drunk, it would only result in more chaos erupting from between them. Any common sense that Asra had was lost when he was drunk, and any kind of rational thinking was next out of the window if he was paired with an equally drunk Julian. Sober, they didn’t seem to get along. Drunk, they both bounced off of each other to cause as much destruction as possible.

“I’m just saying-” Julian pressed despite all of the signs telling him to shut up, to watch it, to be more careful if he didn’t want to get hit again.  
“Julian.”  
“I think that you should just grab Muriel and-”  
“Julian.”  
“Y’know, tell him that you, uh, like him or-”  
“Julian! Drop it,” Asra hissed between his teeth, glaring up at Julian. There was a solid foot difference between them, but that didn’t stop Asra from being the more intimidating of the two.

“I’m just… it’s, uh… I- um…”

And with that, Julian latched onto the next topic that came to mind, diverting the conversation to save his skin and keep Asra on his good side.

 

But, of course, just as soon as Julian had started talking about Malak having left a few days ago and being gone longer than usual, Asra was caught off guard by a call of his name. He’d been planning on giving Muriel space and avoiding him just a little, but Lucio had been the one to shout for him.

And beside Lucio… was Muriel, who took Asra’s breath away when he saw him. The short hair was a bit of a jarring change, sure, and it likely wouldn’t look any better the more Asra got used to it, but the outfit Muriel was wearing looked good. It looked expensive. It didn’t look very Muriel, and it was clear the second that Asra saw him that he wasn’t comfortable, but that came as a followup thought to the initial shock of seeing him wearing something so new. 

“Asra! Jules!” Lucio’s voice called again, as if them stopping and looking at him hadn’t been enough of an indicator that he’d heard them. Julian nervously looked at Asra and murmured something along the lines of ‘But Muriel’s there’ and ‘Will you be okay?’. Asra didn’t even dignify it with a response, muttering something snide and definitely inappropriate under his breath before starting towards the Count. He didn’t meet Muriel’s eye, though that was less about his preferences and more because he didn’t want to make Muriel feel any worse than he already did.

Lucio, as it seemed, was dead set on ruining that.  
“Look at my Scourge!” was the first thing he said, “Doesn’t he look better wearing this than any of those disgusting second-hand clothes he always used to have?”

Julian looked up at Muriel, his eyes wide and his lips parted as if he wanted to say something. He looked like a lost puppy, and didn’t say anything until he was looking back at Lucio, when he murmured some kind of an agreement.

“I don’t know,” Asra said, shaking his head. “You’ve got a lot of money, Lucio. Couldn’t you afford the rest of the fabric for his shirt? I can’t imagine it’s overly comfortable for him or anyone else that doesn’t want to look at you and see someone barely dressed.”

Lucio barked with laughter, leaning against Muriel casually, as if Muriel hadn’t jolted up with tension the second that contact had been made.   
“Don’t act like he doesn’t look his best,” Lucio said, grinning, “I spent a lot of money on getting him to look this good. I want to make sure that everyone knows how strong my Scourge is.”   
“Yeah, or give yourself some eye candy,” Asra hissed, “try and have some modesty next time you design his clothes, Lucio. Just because you got divorced doesn’t mean you can take it out on everyone else.”

Muriel hadn’t been listening to the conversation.

He’d lost the ability to listen at all the moment his gaze had found Asra.

A few days alone in his apartment, Muriel didn't allow himself to think of Asra. He didn't allow himself to think of anything aside from the work that was to be done. There was no reminiscing in the way Asra’s touch felt, in the way he smelled. There was no remembering how nice his apartment had been. There was no dwelling over the fact that all the food in Muriel’s refrigerator came from the generosity of Asra’s wallet -- along with the bed and the table and the chairs. 

Even if Inanna would whine the name into his head whenever she told him to get over himself. Even when he found the bed cold and lonely after a day in the shop Asra helped advertise. Even when he was out, uncomfortable in the crowds, looking for clothes that Lucio would want him to wear during their next meeting. He’d reject the name, and he’d reject the emotion. 

If he didn't, he would have called Asra. He would have begged him to come back. He would have begged him not to hate him-

And Muriel couldn’t do that. Not to himself. Not to Asra. 

They didn't belong together. 

However, upon seeing Asra dressed the way he was, groomed the way he was, wearing jewelry that suited his outfit and the beautiful shine of his eyes, Muriel found it strikingly difficult to ignore how much he missed him. 

So, Muriel had frozen up. He became slack jawed and tense, stuck in his shock. Asra didn't look at him -- he was lucky in that regard, even if the idea made Muriel’s chest feel tight. Muriel managed to snap himself from the daze when Lucio had leaned against him -- the startle of being touched wrenched him from the surprise of seeing Asra. Of hearing Asra. 

He just turned his head away, pretending to survey his surroundings. 

‘I don’t care.’ Muriel told himself this with conviction. ‘I don’t care about him. I don’t want to see him again.’ 

‘He doesn’t want to see me.’ 

Suddenly, Lucio gave Muriel a shove, as if he’d been speaking to him and Muriel had been rude to ignore their conversation.  
“Don’t you think so, Scourge?” he asked, eyes fixing on Muriel, staring through him. Julian found himself looking helplessly at Muriel. The only person who didn’t start staring at Muriel, who didn’t wait expectantly for a response, was Asra; who was suddenly looking interested in the drunk he held in his hands.

Something was clearly bothering him, be it Muriel’s closeness or the conversation itself. Either way, magic was sparking through his fingertips, turning the fizzy bubbles in his drink a striking blue colour and causing it to fizz more. It was the best place to direct the energy, sure, but it didn’t do much for subtlety. 

Muriel felt his system drop with dread. The shock of being shoved so recklessly remained as an ugly sting, residing in his chest and burning at his stomach. His heart was pounding in his ears, his eyes growing round as he tried to think back to what Lucio had said. Nothing was there. Muriel hadn’t been listening. 

“I… um…”

His voice was gruff -- he hadn’t said more than three words all night. Muriel cleared his throat, flicked his eyes away, and ducked his head. Instantly, he missed the hair that was supposed to fall in front of his eyes. 

“I said,” Lucio muttered, his voice sharper now, “that you liked your clothes. That I thought they looked better on you, and then I asked ‘Don’t you think so?’ and you didn’t respond. I’ll ask again, Scourge. Don’t you think that these clothes look better on you than anything you’d have chosen? And that they’re nicer than anything you’ll wear again?”

A sharp fizz from Asra’s direction and his drink was glowing blue, the cup starting to shake in his hands. It looked like it was about to break - so Julian gave a nervous laugh, a cheap excuse, and took the drink from Asra to set on the tray of a waiter walking by. Lucio gave a grimace, both uneasy because of the use of magic and because of Asra’s sudden agitation, and moved on without waiting for Muriel’s response.

“What is it with you?” he asked Asra, his eyes narrowing. “Being snappy and making drinks glow. This isn’t what you normally do at my parties.”

Asra glared back, muttering something under his breath and turning on his heel. He started off, looking over at Julian and calling for him, but in his moment of emotional vulnerability his eyes found Muriel’s. They locked for a moment, and a surge of energy so strong ran through Asra that a faint glow followed his veins under his skin. It was only for a moment before he turned and began to push through the crowd, though the sparks of energy coming off of him were so overwhelming that people were moving before they’d even seen him coming through.

Julian looked at Muriel, then apologised quickly to Lucio, and followed after Asra until they were both too far away to be picked out in the crowd.

Muriel’s eyes followed after Asra, feeling sick and confused. That meeting of their eyes, as brisk and as fleeting as it had been, had startled Muriel down to his very soul. He was frozen beside Lucio, lips slightly parted, his hand just barely raised as if he meant to reach out for the white haired magician that currently pushed his way through the crowd. 

It wasn’t until he felt Lucio’s eyes on him that he relaxed, shoulders still stiff as he dropped his arm and his gaze. 

“Sorry, sir,” Muriel mumbled, swallowing hard as he tucked his hands behind his back. “Do… do you still want me to answer that question?” 

“Yeah,” Lucio snapped, still staring after where Asra had disappeared into the crowd, agitation and anger building in his system. “And make sure to grovel. Compliment me, or something. That magician’s put me in a bad mood. He’s always like this.”

He finally turned, moving past Muriel and beginning to wander through groups of people, intending on getting himself a glass of expensive red wine. Expecting Muriel to follow him to the bar, he didn’t wait up or leave much time for Muriel’s slow, heavy steps to stay in line with his own. Asra’s attitude was irritating him, and Muriel’s strange behaviour was only making that worse. He’d talk to him about it later, almost thinking that there was some connection between the two that could explain the odd mannerisms they were both suddenly exhibiting.

Muriel, as expected, followed after Lucio… however not before glancing back into the crowd for the briefest of moments. His eyes drifted across the party guests, taking in each face with a nervous sort of spark in his chest. He didn't know if he hoped to see Asra or not. If he could stand to see him or not. 

If Asra could stand to see him or not. 

But Muriel snapped back to his senses quickly, and he hurried after Lucio, his head ducked as he moved his way through guests -- pretending he didn't feel their narrowed eyes or disgusted glares each time he’d brush past a little too closely.

Once he made it to Lucio’s side, he answered the question like he was meant to. ‘I like my new outfit. I like my new hair.’ Lies, of course. It hurt Muriel’s chest to breathe too deeply with how tightly the buttons had been clasped. The necktie felt close to suffocating. His discomfort with his hair was… somewhat easy to explain. He found the unnerved pinch in his system to provide clear evidence of such each time his shortened, greased back bangs failed to fall in front of his eyes. 

Muriel ‘groveled’ some more, but he found his attempts useless the moment Lucio began to drink. His anger dissipated somewhere through his second glass -- and of course that had been when some of the lower class guests arrived to plant their gracious kisses upon Lucio’s boots. Then, Muriel’s only duty was to stand watch. Look intimidating. To nod when Lucio involved him in the conversation and agree with his deep, gravelly voice for ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ from the Count’s audience. 

The night could have been worse. So far, nobody had touched him aside from Lucio -- and even then, it was his standard shoving and patting, perhaps the occasional grab of his bicep and nothing more. Muriel hadn’t seen Asra since he’d stormed off. Bitterly, he hoped Asra had left the party after his tantrum. At least that had been what Muriel hoped for on the surface. 

Deep down he felt a rift of fear at the idea of being left alone. 

Left alone in a sea of strangers by the one person he knew. By the one person he trusted…

Used to trust. Muriel shook his head a little, stuck in his own thoughts, ignoring Lucio and his party guests. Instead of listening to whatever story the Count drunkenly drawled, Muriel told himself to stop. Kill the thoughts of Asra where they spawned. 

He didn't trust Asra anymore. And Asra didn't trust him. Muriel had told himself the two cold facts many times in the days that had passed since the elevator ride. 

The facts made him tired. The party was making him tired. Muriel settled his eyes closed, escaping into his mind -- the sounds of the party blocked out. The sounds of Lucio blocked out, too. He missed Inanna, and he missed his apartment. 

Muriel could only long for the party to come to an end... 

But it seemed to go on forever. And it only got worse from there on out.

On his fourth or so glass, Lucio had already begun to attract a crowd. He was telling stories about his own gory past and proudly bragging about the deeds he’d had Muriel do, embellishing disgusting details and false stories just to feel the eyes on him and listen to the praise. He’d do anything so long as he got the notoriety for it, so long as he was able to listen to people’s admiring ‘ooh’s and ‘aah’s. 

Even if it meant that a fair chunk of the stories he told were blatant lies. 

“See- my Scourge is the strongest around. He could crush someone’s head with one hand!” Lucio was saying, causing a lot of eyes to turn to Muriel, wide with both fear and intrigue. “I could defend myself easily if I needed to, I just wanted a bodyguard like Scourge to make sure everyone knew how powerful I am. If I can tame a beast like that, who would ever argue with me?” He grinned, speaking loudly. Boastfully. His hand settled on Muriel’s arm and tugged at his sleeve.

“Show them, Scourge. Take that jacket off, show everyone how strong you are. All of your scars.” His eyes found Muriel’s, looking at him challengingly. Daring him to look back. Daring him to refuse in front of all of these people so that he could be punished for it later.

Or even punished there and then, just for the fun of it. 

The only reason Muriel realized he was being addressed was from the unmistakable presence of eyes pressing into his skin. He’d opened his eyes and looked up, his face instantly losing its color at the sight of the crowd that surrounded the Count and his Scourge. 

Muriel looked directly at Lucio -- trying to search for some clue or some hint as to what the Count had ordered him to do or to say. However, just like before, Muriel found himself helpless. He straightened up a little, still looking at Lucio, eyes respectfully lowered to Lucio’s boots. 

“Ex… excuse me, sir?” he asked, his voice gruff despite the sudden fear he could feel rising in his system like bile. “What?” 

“Weren’t you listening, Scourge?” Lucio spat, his voice suddenly sharp and pumped full of malice now. Muriel was supposed to listen to him- they had an audience- but Lucio was going to have to repeat himself after bragging about how obedient Muriel could be! 

He tugged his sleeve a little harder.  
“I told you to take this off. I want to show off how strong you are, and this jacket covers it all up. Do you think I gave you a shirt like that for no reason?”

Muriel flinched, his system going cold. He lifted his gaze, eyes drifting over the crowd. Lucio’s impatient command hammered in his head right along with the slamming of his heart. Despite the immedient fear that overtook him at the feeling of all those eyes, all those stares, all those people -- Muriel rose a trembling hand up to the top button of his jacket. He’d gotten halfway through the buttons, his skin feeling hot and ugly, when he noticed a flash of red move somewhere in the crowd. 

And beside that flash of red, was a flash of white. 

White hair. 

Asra. 

His fingers froze where they had been, undoing one of the last three buttons. His shoulders stiffened, his muscles locked, his eyes went round and glinted with dread. He didn't want Asra to see him like that. He… he didn't want anyone to see him like that. The eyes suddenly became more real than they were before. The laughter and the egging on. 

Muriel, his breath suddenly caught in his tightening chest, took a step backwards. 

Perhaps that would be enough? Muriel looked toward Lucio, who didn't seem very satisfied at all. His voice was dry and croaky when he spoke, nervous and small compared to the gruff, untouchable tone from before. 

His stage presence was very different than the man hiding behind the mask and chains. 

“Sir, do you… is this really necessary?” Muriel’s hands were beginning to tremble a bit more visibly. “It’d be a shame… I… I mean it’s-... it’s such a nice jacket-...”

“I’m not asking you to rip it, Scourge, I’m telling you to take it off. It’s a direct order. Don’t humiliate me - it won’t end well for you. Not at all.”

Lucio’s voice was low. Threatening. It was a malicious growl, loud and authoritative. There was no doubt that all nearby party goers could hear and were eager to see what would happen next. Julian started to look uncomfortable from where he stood and was suddenly pulled down to Asra’s height, no doubt to be spoken to about something private.

Lucio pressed on, clearly influenced by the alcohol pumping through his body.   
“You’ve always been such an ungrateful brute. What have I asked of you this evening? To stand around and do nothing. I told you to do this. I gave you an order, and you can’t meet my demands this once? I wouldn’t have given you a jacket or even a shirt if I’d known that you’d be so petty!” He was quickly getting louder, and it was only attracting more witnesses. People were getting closer and coming to investigate, wondering what was inspiring Lucio’s meltdown.

And someone started to move through the crowd - tall and lanky, looking uncomfortable just with the attention he brought to himself. Julian was stumbling into people, tripping over his feet, and suddenly spoke up to divert Lucio’s attention from Muriel.  
“I- uh, boss!” He said, loud enough to stop Lucio mid-rant and to end up with him looking at Julian instead. “Could you tell us about the time you-”

And that was about as far as Julian got before there was a loud popping sound, followed by a flash of purple and a shower of colourful sparks over the crowd. It was nothing harmful, but by the time the dazzling colour had faded, everyone in the front row had been splattered with a vibrant purple as if it was a paint bomb that had been flung out in front of everyone. Residual magic lingered in the crowd, and by then Julian had already disappeared. 

Lucio went red.

It was no surprise he’d been the main target of the ‘harmless’ prank, (and the familiar magenta, the same colour Asra’s car used to be) would have been a dead giveaway as to who the culprit was if anyone cared enough to note the details.

“Who did that?!” shrieked Lucio, his voice loud and shrill, full of spurred anger. His suit - which had been mostly white - was ruined. The chances of that colour ever coming out were narrow and the stains sank in the longer he stood around doing nothing. He surveyed the crowd with wide eyes, finding nothing but shocked faces and purple-stained clothes all around him. Soon, his eyes landed on Muriel, who didn’t have a touch of colour on him. “You let this happen!” he shouted again, louder this time, before turning and storming off, knocking his wine glass over in his blind rage and sending it spilling over the bar. He’d be gone a while to get the paint off and find something else to wear, and soon other witnesses were off to bathrooms and cars to clean up or get new clothes.

The flash of white hair was nowhere to be seen.

Muriel didn't really know what had happened. One moment he was being threatened, the next, shouted at by a Count covered in a familiar shade of magenta. ‘You let this happen!’ Muriel didn't even know what really had happened -- there had been a loud noise, a flash of color, and then everyone was leaving. 

‘Don’t humiliate me - it won’t end well for you. Not at all.’

You know what comes next.

Muriel didn't think before stepping backwards. He bumped into the corner of the bar, a jarring pain sending up his side. The collision attracted eyes again, gazes. Questions and quips met his ears -- ‘Why didn't you stop it?’ ‘You know, you’re not that scary…’ ‘Are you still going to take your shirt off?’. Muriel could only feel his heart slam harder in his chest, hear his pulse hammer louder in his ears. He shook his head a little and turned around, starting off in the direction Lucio had stormed.

Perhaps he meant to follow him. Perhaps he meant to go apologize, to tell him he’d find who’d pulled such a prank and take care of them, anything to soothe the temper of the Count Muriel had come to fear. However, he had to stop the moment he was alone. Muriel found himself breathless and dizzy. The gasps that tore through his lips were beginning to become painful and useless. His chest coiled so tight it was as if something could snap -- something could break and shatter him entirely. Muriel could only stumble into the hall that led to the stairwell.

He pressed himself against the wall, reaching his hands up to pull at the tie around his neck. That had to be what made him feel so breathless… right? His jacket was still half buttoned, but even the crisp white undershirt felt constricting and tight. His head began to spin. His knees began to buckle. Muriel propped himself against the wall with his legs, his trembling fingers fumbling with a tie he didn't know how to remove.

He was alone in the hall. Just him and the echo of his heavy breathing. All alone. 

Despite the way he’d been craving the loneliness all night, Muriel couldn’t help but feel despondent in the midst of his panic. 

Thankfully, the loneliness didn’t last long.

“Muriel?”

But the realisation that it was Asra who had followed him out of the hall… 

“Muriel- shit-” Asra moved over quickly, moving around Muriel to stand in front of him. He held out a hand for him to take, looking at him with furrowed brows and worried eyes. “Sit down. Lean back against the wall and try to regulate your breathing.”

That was the first thing that Asra had to do - calm Muriel down. Talk him down from the emotional high he’d reached from an evening of such tension and stress. He held his hand out for Muriel still, but raised his other hand and splayed his fingers to prove that he didn’t mean any harm.

“It’s just us out here. I won’t let anyone else see you like this. Sit down, Muriel. Can you try to take deep breaths? I can count for you if you need me to.”

It didn't even take a moment for Muriel to recognize whose voice had been right there in front of him -- calm yet concerned in its attempt to talk him down. 

“Asra-” Muriel panted his name and promptly turned his head. He pressed back into the wall, his legs beginning to almost scramble. He didn't hear what Asra was saying, but he didn't need to. His voice was there. Muriel wanted it there. 

Which was so strange, considering the way Muriel seemed to shy away from him. 

“Go away.” Please don’t go away. “I-... I- can’t… l-leave me alone-...” Please stay.

He was grasping to remnants of their last conversation. Muriel’s head was spinning so fast, he didn't have a handle on anything that slipped past his lips. His knees were giving out, his body sliding down the side of the wall until he’d slumped onto the floor, head ducked and eyes at Asra’s feet. 

He was going to get in trouble. Lucio was going to punish him -- punish him for something he didn't really do. The mess was running through his mind in a terrible sort of backtrack. Lucio threatening him, Julian was there… and then a burst of magenta. Magenta paint, magenta magic.

Muriel looked up at Asra, panic in his eyes. “Was that you?”

Asra knelt down as Muriel slumped, looking down at him. He’d let his hands fall at the rejection, unsure of what to say or when he could interject to try to calm Muriel, but was soon caught off guard by the question. He cracked a grin, as if some attempt to lighten the tension.

“What gave it away?” he found himself saying, as if that would help in any way. “It was the colour, wasn’t it? I like purple, what can I say?”

Half a beat of silence and Asra noticed that that was definitely not the thing to say, shaking his head.  
“Look, Muriel, I- I couldn’t let him… he was saying so much, and being so cruel to you. I didn’t want him pushing you even further out of your comfort zone, so I didn’t think before I acted. All I knew was that I had to stop him from making a bigger deal out of everything so I did that in the only way I could think to.”

He settled down, sitting on the floor in front of Muriel, looking at him with concern in his eyes. Seeing Muriel in such a fragile state was killing him.  
“Deep breaths, Muriel, please. I won’t let anything happen. I won’t let anyone see you here with me.”

Muriel sniffled. He was beginning to cry -- oh, how he loathed himself for it. His breath was shuddering and weak as he reached a hand up to wipe his face, his entire body trembling by then. 

“Why do you care?” he croaked, shaking his head. “You hate me. You- you hate me! Why do you care?” 

Muriel knew deep down it wasn’t true. He wanted it to be true. And even deeper so, he desperately didn't. 

He tried to take those deeper breaths like Asra told him to, but he tears and the building sobs did nothing to help. His first job after years of retirement had reduced him to what? A pitiful mess, slumped against the wall beside the stairwell? Oh, what Lucio would do to him if he found out. 

‘Have your breakdowns on your own time.’ That’s what he’d always say. Muriel lifted his hands to tug at hair that wasn’t even there -- it was all cut short and slicked back. Instead, he ducked his head and tried to focus on his breathing. 

“I’m going to get in so much trouble,” he whispered to himself, shaking his head. Muriel pinched his eyes shut. “Why’d you do that? Why do you care? If… when he finds out-...” 

You’re going to get in trouble too.

“I can’t just leave you to go through that!” Asra said, moving closer, lowering his head to try and see Muriel, to look at him properly. “I don’t care whether he finds out what I did or not, Muriel, I can’t just stop and leave you to be miserable!” 

His advice wasn’t helping, he knew that, and they were getting louder. Any noise carried through these halls and hitching, shaking breaths would catch attention eventually. He threw up his hand and it glowed suddenly, casting a barrier around them to block out the sounds they let out. To muffle Muriel’s sobs and ensure that nobody would be able to hear them if they passed by. Any footsteps and he would strengthen the wall until they couldn’t even be seen, but now he was focused on exerting as little energy as possible and focusing more on Muriel. 

“Please, when you’re calm we can talk. I can’t leave you like this, whether you think that I hate you or not.”

Muriel shook his head a little, eyes pinched closed, lips curled in the bitterest of frowns. He tried to wipe away some of his tears with balled fists, but they just kept flowing. Heavy beads of tears spilled down his cheeks and clung to his jaw. 

“You should care,” he whimpered. “You should care about yourself. Not about me. I don’t want you to care about me anymore -- you-... you work for him. I don’t even know what you do for him… an-... and you know what I do for him.” 

The words just kept coming. They slipped from his lips with his blubbers and his sobs. His system was only just beginning to recover from the fear of Lucio’s shout, layers upon layers of deep rooted panic remained. Ever since the night he was summoned back to the Palace, those thoughts remained. 

“I-I… I need you to hate me. You know. You know everything. You should have wanted me miserable just like everyone else did!” Muriel sniffled into his hands. “I need you to hate me because I deserve it. We deserve to hate each other. Even if I don’t want to. E-even if it hurts... even if- if-...” 

If what, Muriel?

“Even if I love you!” 

Another sob. He shouldn’t have said that. Why did he say that? Muriel’s breath hiccuped, his head spinning. Nothing made sense…

I love you…

That made sense. 

“I love you,” he repeated. 

Something else came to his tongue, to his lips. Muriel didn't know whether or not he should have said it, but it slipped out just like everything else. The deepest layer to all of the panic, to all of the pushing Asra away, to all of the walls he frantically tried to build, the excuses he frantically tried to come up with. 

“And you hurt me.” 

There were a few moments of nothing. Nothing but shuddering breaths and panicked sobs as Asra stopped, trying to recollect his thoughts from the fragments of conversation he’d managed to process. The only thing he could think of and wasn’t moving past was that desperate, pained cry that had escaped Muriel. That shout of ‘I love you!’ that left Asra stunned and shocked.

And then everything flooded him. Euphoria, first, the strongest emotion to come through when he realised that Muriel had openly confessed to having feelings for him (mutual feelings, at that) and then it was worry again, and a pestering sort of feeling that Muriel had only said that in the spur of the moments, and then the decision to see if Muriel meant it or not. A decision that was very much dependant on them both being caught up in the heat of the moment and being fuelled by the whirlwind of emotions that swarmed Asra’s brain.

He reached out, cupped Muriel’s cheeks in his hands, and tipped his head up.   
“I’m going to kiss you,” he said, giving Muriel some warning, or time to realise what was happening before it happened, or just ensuring that he couldn’t back down now that he’d made that decision. ‘I’m going to kiss you’, he said. And then he did.

An array of feelings passed through Muriel the moment he felt their lips connect. The first feeling passed in an instant -- a primal repulse from being touched, the same flash he felt when Asra held his face to tip his head up. Even with the warning, Muriel was met with an instinctual urge to pull away. His eyes had opened wide from surprise, his body went rigid, a slight sound left him, muffled by Asra’s kiss. 

Any other time, and he would have wrenched back. Any other place, moment, situation. 

Any other person...

The next feeling that rushed through him was a fluttering sense of calm. The gentle movement of a butterfly’s wings breezing delicately up his system. It was refreshingly pleasant, that feeling, stirring a strong sense of warmth that flushed through the initial chill of dread. Muriel felt his muscles relax, his eyes flutter. Whatever tightness there had been released. 

Muriel was then content to melt into the kiss.

He’d never been kissed before. Muriel didn't know what he was supposed to do -- he just welcomed it with closed eyes and a tip of his head into Asra’s hand. His heart was still beating hard in his chest, his muscles still lacing with tremors. However his head felt strangely cleared despite the blush that warmed his skin. Asra was kissing him… 

Asra was kissing him.

Upon not being pulled away from, Asra found one of his hands moving from Muriel’s cheeks to his hair. Gently holding onto him to keep him in place. Magic was still thrumming through his system, he was sure that Muriel could feel it through anywhere that their skin touched. 

He was reluctant to pull away. It was as if he feared that the moment that he pulled away, he’d be rejected again. Pushed away and kept at a distance for pushing Muriel too far. But slowly he stopped, and he leant back just a little, enough to take a few slightly ragged breaths. His eyes opened, flitting over Muriel’s face to take in the details - the closed eyes, the blush over his cheeks - before he found his voice again.

His usual smile came to his lips again in spite of the red flush over his cheeks.   
“You love me?” Asra asked, and before he could stop himself he let out a lighthearted, airy laugh. Full of relief and happiness and the euphoria of finally being able to let go of a secret before the tight grip he held it with began to burn. “Muriel- I love you too.” He paused a moment, smile growing, and said it again. With more conviction. “I love you too.” With more energy. Because it wasn’t a secret anymore. It wasn’t hidden under layers and layers of work and complications and ‘what ifs’. It was the truth, and now it felt so plain and simple. 

He loved Muriel, and Muriel loved him back.

Muriel sniffled, and nodded his head. He supposed he was admitting it to himself just as much as he was admitting it to Asra. He leaned back a little, bringing a hand up to his face to wipe away the wet paths his tears had drawn down his cheeks. 

“Yeah,” he said, voice tired and trembly. Muriel nodded again. “I guess I do. Yeah. I do…” 

He looked up, finally meeting Asra’s wide, hopeful eyes with his own tired ones. He was sure his gaze was bloodshot and haggard. Framed by shoppy locks of hair that had slipped through the hair gel -- none of which long enough to hang past his forehead. Muriel’s throat clicked when he swallowed, his brow furrowed as he tipped his head to the side, almost deepening their stare.

“But… I-... Like I said you… you hurt me.” Muriel didn't know where most of the words were coming from. They just left his lips -- rolled off of his tongue. “And I ruined it. Did-... did I ruin this? Us, I mean. I did… didn't I?” 

Asra ran his fingers under Muriel’s eyes gently, making sure to catch any tears that could have come, to help him wipe away any tear residue.  
“You didn’t ruin anything,” he assured Muriel, not knowing where the steadiness of his voice came from but thankful that it helped him sound like he knew what he was doing. “You couldn’t have, Muriel. It’s fine - we’re okay.”

He settled down properly in front of him, no longer leant up so much to be able to easily keep eye contact and exchange kisses with Muriel. As much as he wanted to do that again and again until the party faded without them, he figured his first choice of action should have been to get Muriel out of there. To get him somewhere else - somewhere more comforting.

“Do you want to get out of here?” he asked first, pulling his hands back from Muriel’s face and instead letting one hand find Muriel’s, gently taking ahold of it. “Lucio won’t notice. We can get out of here and I’ll take care of everything else.”

Muriel looked at him, and then promptly looked toward the floor. 

“I can’t,” he said weakly, shaking his head. “Lucio will notice… he will- he always did.” 

Muriel wanted to express how desperately he wanted to leave. How desperately he wanted to peel the uncomfortably tight suit from his unnerved skin and settle down in bed beside Inanna… hell, perhaps beside Asra as well. The magic of his touch was a wondrous thing. The tie was still tight upon his throat, his hair still pulled back to some discomforting degree. Leaving sounded perfect… Muriel couldn’t think of anything else he wanted.

Still, he shook his head. Muriel didn't get what he wanted. That wasn’t how things worked for him. 

“I want… I want to,” he mumbled, not really knowing which option he was admitting to wanting. “But…” 

Asra gave his hand a gentle squeeze to get his attention to prevent him from getting too caught up in his own thoughts.  
“I’ll deal with it,” he promised him, his voice soft and firm. “Trust me. I’ll deal with all of it. He’ll never even realise. We can go back to your place and settle down, I’ll bring you back with me.”

He moved closer, his other hand finding Muriel’s face again, cupping his cheek to urge Muriel to look at him, to meet his eyes. They had lots to talk about -- too much to discuss here. Too much to discuss so late if they were to wait until the end of the party. Asra needed to confess a lot, to get this heavy weight off of his chest. He was sure that Muriel had questions that they hadn’t been able to ask each other yet.

“If you want to leave, I can have us both out of here without question. Nobody will notice or realise. Trust me.” He leant up, pressing a soft and slow kiss to the corner of Muriel’s mouth. Not too forward, but steady and endearing. Grounding Muriel, he hoped. That was what he’d been trying to achieve, anyway. “Trust me, Muriel. I would never put you in danger. I know what I’m doing by asking this of you.”

Muriel was melting into the delicacy of Asra’s touch, of Asra’s kisses. He tipped his head closer, he leaned his body forward, starved for the affection. It was all the convincing he needed, really. Muriel’s system was too tired to argue, too tired to stay. He wanted to go home -- to his apartment. Asra’s promise was too perfect to deny…

So he nodded. Very slowly, he nodded. 

“I want to go see Inanna,” he murmured. “I want to go. I don’t want to be... here anymore.” 

He leaned up a little, just enough to meet Asra’s eyes. There was no reason to trust him. There was no reason for Asra to trust him. Muriel, however, was too tired to think about any of that. He missed it when they didn't know, when they were okay. No Lucio. No Scourge. Just a wealthy Jeep owner and a poor mechanic from South End…

“I trust you,” Muriel said. “I shouldn’t, but… I do.”

Asra was up almost instantly, offering his hand to Muriel and helping him up. He let their sound barrier fade and started out of the alcove they’d tucked themselves away in, surveying the halls around them. 

“It’s empty,” he told Muriel, reaching his hand back for him, offering him help or comfort. He wanted to hold Muriel’s hand. He wasn’t so sure that any other reason given wasn’t just an excuse to hold Muriel’s hand. “We’ll be fine. I can cover us on the way out - there’s an emergency exit just down this corridor. It’ll be fine.”

Muriel’s hand was trembly as he rose it up to meet Asra’s. The touch, however, seemed to stabilize him. A rush of warm magic. The flutter of Asra’s buzzing touch. Muriel’s breath evened as he allowed Asra to take his hand. 

Asra stopped while he let Muriel’s rough, calloused hand slip into his. He gave it a quick, reassuring squeeze before starting down the hall. He took slow, quiet steps, splaying out the fingers on his free hand to muffle the sounds of their shoes on the marble flooring. Especially Muriel’s heavier, clomping footsteps. He stuck close to the far wall, his fingers beginning to glow as he expanded the reach of his magic to ensure that Muriel was kept within range of it, kept quiet. 

He stopped suddenly, though, hearing footsteps coming the other way. He moved close by Muriel, pressing their arms together as the energy pouring from his fingertips began to increase. He moved a glowing finger to his mouth to show Muriel to be quiet - the magic around them was steady and would hold, but it was better not to take risks - and stayed flush against the wall as the footsteps grew louder.

The loud clacking of heels was familiar, and it was hardly surprising to see Lucio rounding the corner. He wore a new suit this time, and was using a handkerchief to wipe the remaining splotches of purple from his hands. He’d cleaned it from his face and most places in his hair, but he didn’t look happy. Muttering to himself about paint and about the ‘damn disruption’ to his party. 

Muriel tensed, his eyes growing wide and his whole body flushing with dread. Without realizing, he squeezed his grip tight upon Asra’s hand. He felt Asra press them up against the wall, felt the cool touch of Asra’s magic as it washed over both of them. Muriel held his breath tight in his chest, his eyes wide and bright with fear as Lucio stepped past them. 

The Count hadn’t even offered a single glance as he passed, his head ducked and his attention focused on wiping the paint from his hands. Muriel felt a pang of sharp fear pierce his stomach at the thought of Lucio returning to the party without his Scourge there to apologize. Without the Scourge there for him to take his anger out on. Muriel squeezed Asra’s hand even tighter as his stomach tied itself into knots. 

They watched Lucio pass in the most breathless silence, the two of them pressed close beneath Asra’s cloak of magic. Even as the Count turned the corner, the cape of his suit flapping dramatically as he whipped about it, the odd pair remained quiet and still. Muriel would have stayed there, as if in stone, for much longer if it wasn’t for Asra’s light tugging on his hand. 

Muriel released his grip on Asra’s hand, and then released his breath, his tensioned shoulders relaxing. 

“That was too close…” he half-whispered, his gaze still lingering on the corner Lucio had turned, as if he expected the Count to peek back over it and catch his Scourge and his employee. “Too close…” 

“I had it under control,” Asra said, despite the hammering thrum of his own heart. He hadn’t accounted for poor timing - he definitely hadn’t considered that anyone who’d walk past them would, out of sheer coincidence, end up being Lucio. “It could have been anyone and I would have had it under wraps, alright?”

He reached out for Muriel’s hand again, brushing his fingertips along his knuckles to get his attention, to steal his focus away from Lucio and bring it back to their daring escape.   
“Trust me,” he assured him, voice hushed. “We’re luckier it was him. Others might have been able to notice the magic. It’s just our luck that Lucio’s as powerless as he is stupid.”

He stopped for a moment, looking back where Lucio had just left as he heard a familiar, blustering voice. The accent easily pointed it to Julian, who had seemingly just run into Lucio in his attempt to find Asra. It was a good distraction - the sound of the door opening and closing would be easily ignorable and could be played off without difficulty if Lucio was preoccupied.

He took a firm hold on Muriel’s hand and began to the door, pressing his hand to the lock and waiting until he heard a soft click before pushing it open, stepping aside for Muriel to funnel out after him.

Then they were out and free.


	19. Safety

Every time that Asra arrived at Muriel’s apartment, he’d forgotten how bare and miserable it looked.

He remembered vaguely that it wasn’t a welcoming place, and it was easy to tell that Muriel had never exactly settled into it. It was, instead, designed like a temporary home. With enough to get by - enough to survive. Nothing on the walls except a clock and a calendar, with X’s to mark when money was due to be paid.

The best part of Muriel’s home was that by the time Muriel was getting out his keys, there were scratches from the other side of the door and the sound of Inanna’s feet tapping as she dashed back and forth, waiting eagerly for Muriel’s return. Asra kept quiet and a few paces back. The journey had been tense and quiet once Asra had gotten past the thrill of leaving and realised that he needed to do more than get them out of trouble for Muriel to forgive him for everything he’d done wrong. 

The door finally opened and Inanna came dashing out, running in a circle around Muriel’s feet and between his legs. She let out an excited ‘arrooo’ noise from the back of her throat before Muriel started to shuffle inside and she followed. Asra went obediently after, closing the door behind him and kneeling down to pet Inanna, who had stopped to wait for him.

“Did she miss you that much?” he asked Muriel, offering a smile, attempting to lighten the mood. All other attempts hadn’t gone well, but Asra was few things if not persistent.

Muriel shrugged his shoulders as he dropped his keys upon the kitchen counter. His voice left him in a sheltered mumble when he spoke. “She’s just not used to being alone for so long.” 

Ever since they left the party, he found himself reserved and quiet. Gruff and brisk in regard to each and every attempt of Asra’s to start conversation. He wanted to respond, he wanted to entertain some aspect of Asra’s affection -- they had kissed, after all, an event that Muriel was finally beginning to process -- but didn't have the energy. The spirit.

He was tired from crying. His system felt hollowed out, muggy in the aftermath of his emotional state. Muriel didn't even have the energy to pet Inanna when she trotted to his side and pushed her face into his hand. Just like how, throughout the car ride, Muriel couldn’t find the will to undo the tie around his neck and shrug off his tight coat. He still wore both, his hair, for the most part, still slicked back -- out of his face. 

Muriel leaned against the counter, his eyes on the floor. 

“Are… are you going to stay?” he asked, not looking up from the floor. “You don’t have to… if you don’t want to. I’ve got Inanna now so… you don’t have to worry, I guess.” 

Asra slipped off his shoes and left them by the door, starting towards Muriel and reaching up, hands settling on his tie as though he’d read his mind.  
“May I?” he asked, voice quiet, waiting until he got a nod or a murmur of approval before beginning to loosen the knot of the tie. 

He tugged slowly, careful not to pull it too tight or too suddenly, and let the knot fall loose before sliding the tie away from around his neck. He rolled it around his hand and smoothed out the shoulders of Muriel’s jacket, looking up at him with a furrowed brow and concerned eyes.  
“I’d like to stay. If you’ll have me.” He set the tie, rolled up, aside on the coffee table and reached down to pet Inanna while he did, a small smile appearing on his lips. “I can settle on the couch, but I’ll stay awake if you need me to. You need your sleep, and I want to make sure nobody comes by.”

‘You don’t have to worry.’

What a pointless thing for Muriel to say. Asra was always worried about him, and he wasn’t going to leave him alone here.

Muriel’s brow furrowed, his hand absently reaching to touch his chest -- to touch where Asra had so absentmindedly brushed against with his fingers. Muriel liked the feeling of him so close. To feel the magic, buzzing through Asra’s fingertips with every accidental grace of contact. To feel his warmth and hear his voice and smell his scent -- so real and so close after days of having none of it. It almost made Muriel forget why they’d been apart…

Almost. 

“Okay,” he murmured, not knowing what else to say. “Thanks. I guess.” 

He turned his head and looked toward the couch. It wasn’t a comfortable sofa by any means -- certainly not for spending a whole evening. Muriel, as much as he wanted to, couldn’t muster the strength to tell Asra he could sleep in the bed with him. Instead, he spared a fleeting glance in Asra’s direction, and then turned it directly to the floor. 

“How… how long have you been working for him?” The question left Muriel before he could think about it. He’d simply open his mouth and the words spilled from his lips, they sprung from his tongue. Muriel didn't think he really wanted to know, but he also still couldn’t find a way to invite Asra to sleep in the little bed with him -- perhaps he figured parting his lips and hoping for the best could work? “I… I’m just curious, I guess. I never saw you when I… you know. I figured you must be… kinda new…”

Asra was removing his own jacket then, throwing it onto the sofa - making it clear to Muriel that he didn’t mind. He was assuming that it would make Muriel more comfortable. Their interactions these last few days had been too few and far between for much comfort. The pleasantries exchanged had been all but forgotten when work had stood so proudly between them.

“I worked shy of three years,” Asra said, running fingers through his hair, catching pins he’s used to keep it back where he’d not wanted to gel it. “I joined not much longer after you’d left, shortly before people started getting accused of being moles and the numbers were cut in half. People either realised they were in danger and left or they were…” he cleared his throat, sitting back on the couch. Muriel wasn’t exaggerating - it definitely wasn’t comfortable. 

“I heard stories. About you, I mean. Everyone always proudly told stories or shared gossip. When Lucio said I didn’t like the Scourge… I didn’t like what I’d heard. Exaggerated stories, lies, the thought of someone just leaving and being left alone after everything. Nobody knew if you were dead, or if you’d taken the money and run. Lucio didn’t give anyone any hints and kept a firm ban on talking about it around him.”

His head tilted to the side, focus finding the figure opposite him. Looking at the image of what was supposed to be the terror of the south. The Scourge. The scariest creature in all Vesuvia, kept pinned down under Lucio’s foot, shackled by his chains, but…

All that he could see was Muriel. Scared and vulnerable, alone and refusing himself any luxury for what he had to do back then.

“How did he… what did he promise you? This debt -- you did so much, but still you owe money? I could empty everything I have and we still wouldn’t…” he shook his head. Saying that wouldn’t help. “What happened?”

Muriel stared at him for a few moments, frowned, and then looked away. His gaze was turned toward the floor, his jaw muscles pulsing as he clenched his teeth behind downturned lips. He didn't really know how to answer Asra, he didn't know what to say. If anything could justify his ties to Lucio. 

“I didn't owe him anything until I tried to buy myself out of his service,” Muriel grumbled, swallowing hard. “I was starving on the streets of Vesuvia when he found me -- I wasn’t in the position to say no when he offered me a job. And then I was… his. The only way out of the contract was to buy my freedom from it. I made a deal with him that I’d pay in installments and come back if I ever fell behind. That’s what the debt is from.” 

He left out information. Information about how long it took to make Lucio accept the deal -- how many jobs, how much begging. He didn't tell Asra about how long he had to stay to save up money to buy an apartment and his shop, how many extra jobs it took. He didn't tell Asra that Lucio was probably bumping up the amount of his debt every month that Muriel failed to cover it all. He didn't tell Asra about how, deep down, he knew there’d be a day when he didn't have enough. A day when Muriel would have to go back. 

“How do you know those stories you hear… how do you know they’re exaggerated?” he asked, wanting to look up but lacking the will to. “How do you know I didn't actually do all of those things you hear? How can you say you don’t hate the Scourge… you don’t hate me… when you don’t even know what I did?” 

“Do I need to know what you’ve done?” Asra asked, frowning as he looked at Muriel. “How can you be sure that you don’t hate me? You don’t know everything I’ve done. I know what I need to know about you, Muriel. I know who you are outside of work, and I know that nothing you’ve done for Lucio has been done willingly. I don’t need to know anything else to be sure that you’re a good person.”

He was getting restless. The conversation made him agitated and now he was itching to do something that didn’t mean he’d be stuck sitting there, spilling out his dirty secrets for a chance of being forgiven.

“The break in,” Asra eventually found himself admitting, the thought coming to him as something he knew he was responsible for. Something that needed a confession. “That was… someone I’d brought in. I knew it was him when you mentioned the bandages. I… we had…” he shook his head. “Julian and I turned our backs and then he was gone. Next I hear, he was here and then he was gone. That was my fault, not yours. But now I, uh, see why you thought that.”

Muriel, finally, looked up at him, his eyes round with surprise. 

“You mean… you mean when my apartment was…?” he trailed off, waiting for Asra’s guilty nod. “Oh.” 

He looked back down to the floor. 

There were a few moments of silence -- thick, heavy, uninterrupted silence. One that felt oppressive and wrong when settled upon Muriel’s shoulders. The realization was already clicking into place in Muriel’s mind. Connections were made, lines drawn in the mental map Muriel had made of the situation ever since that bandaged man showed up at his shop. He swallowed hard again, but found his mouth a little dry. 

“So those bandages…” he started, not needing to finish. The three murmured words made the silence even heavier. Muriel leaned off the counter and shook his head a little, feeling like he needed to free himself of the weight -- shrug it off of his shoulders. “Nevermind. It doesn’t matter.” 

Asra felt the objection resting on his tongue as Muriel said it. ‘It was a job’, he wanted to say. Dismiss his own actions by pinning even more of it on Lucio. But what he’d done to Eden after, what had happened as punishment for Eden breaking into Muriel’s home… that wasn’t part of the job. So he kept quiet. He let it fade, forgetting it as Muriel told him to.

Muriel began, finally, to take his coat off. Muriel moved over to the table and hung the coat on the back of his chair, still looking at the floor. The white button up he was wearing was still too small, too tight. He reached his hands up and unbuttoned the top few clasps, hoping it would relieve some of the silence’s weight. 

“If the couch is too uncomfortable, you can sleep in the bed,” Muriel said, simply for the sake of speaking. Ah, he’d finally figured out a way to say it. “I can sleep on the couch.” 

“You’re not sleeping on the couch,” Asra said almost instantly, as if he’d been desperate to say something with that dying claim still resting on his lips. His smile returned, though the light of it didn’t meet his eyes. He hoped in the dimness of the apartment that Muriel wouldn’t realise. Keeping spirits up was difficult, not getting caught up on guilt and regrets was even harder. 

Still, he pushed the familiar sly teasing back into his voice as his focus found Muriel again.  
“We could share, if that’s what you’re offering? I’m sure we’d find a way to cosy up together, the mattress isn’t that small.”

He got to his feet, his eyes flitting to where Muriel’s unbuttoned shirt exposed his chest and then back to him, as if it wouldn’t be possible to see the slight dusting on his cheeks.   
“Though if you’ve got a shirt I could borrow, that would be nice. This isn’t comfortable enough to sleep in.”

Muriel blushed a little, but nodded his head. He didn't know what he was nodding to, which of Asra’s questions he was answering, but he moved toward the dresser nonetheless. Muriel opened up one of the drawers and sifted through it for a shirt small enough to fit Asra. Finding none, he settled with an old band tee for Asra to change into, and a plain black shirt for himself. 

“The bathroom is just over there,” Muriel said, pointing toward the door down the short hall. He turned, and held out Asra’s shirt. “You can change in there if you want to. Sorry if it’s too big… I figured you could change it with magic, or something.” 

Asra nodded, though he’d already unbuttoned his shirt and had been slipping it off of his shoulders at the mention of going elsewhere to change. Inanna had already come plodding into the room and hopped up on the bed. She didn’t have the modesty to curl up and leave room for others, instead lying sprawled out where Asra would likely have to kick her out if he wanted to share the bed with Muriel. 

He set his shirt down on the nearest surface and tugged on the band tee, though he didn’t recognise the name or picture, and then kicked off his pants to leave folded haphazardly beside his shirt. He then approached and settled on the bed, by Inanna’s head, reaching back to scratch behind her ear. Her head tipped back and she let out a contented ‘arrroo’.

“I don’t mind it being big,” he said, though nothing made the difference between Muriel and Asra more obvious than when Asra borrowed his shirt. The neckhole was too large, almost slipping off of one of his shoulders, and the sleeves didn’t cut by the shoulders, instead wandering over halfway towards his elbows. “It’s comfortable.”

Muriel face, regrettably, had deepened considerably so in its shade when Asra had unbuttoned his shirt and changed so casually in front of him. He’d turned his gaze promptly toward the floor, not daring to look up at him even as he sat on the bed. 

Asra was in nothing but boxers and one of Muriel’s shirts. Sitting in his bed. Muriel’s skin was hot with his blush. 

“Oh- uh- fine, then, I guess,” he muttered, turning his body away. He lifted his hands to his shirt, and began to unbutton it, figuring if Asra was comfortable changing like that, than he should be. Muriel shrugged his shirt off and tossed it by Asra’s discarded clothing, and then tugged on his own shirt. 

The flexible cotton felt breathable in such a striking contrast to the tight button up and jacket. Muriel pushed a hand through his hair, as if he was trying to comb out the last of the hair gel with his fingers. He’d have to shower to get it out the next morning. 

“Are you sure you, uh, wouldn't feel more comfortable if I was on the couch?” Muriel asked, looking over his shoulder. “We haven’t… we haven’t seen each other in awhile. I, uh, wouldn't be surprised if you didn't… if you didn't trust me…” 

“Trust you?” Asra echoed, smiling as he moved his other hand to scratch Inanna’s belly, legs crossing like a child while he watched Muriel. “Why wouldn’t I trust you? Come on, stop thinking so much. Inanna thinks you should rest.”

She was lying on her back, head tipped to expose her neck and her tail thumping happily on the bed as Asra gave her attention. She wasn’t thinking about any of that, actually, she was more focused on how Asra was petting her than she was focused on Muriel.

Asra stopped, though, and shifted back on the bed to make room for Muriel. Inanna took her hint and hopped to the floor, stretching before curling up in front of the door as if guarding it. Asra turned his focus back to Muriel and extended his hand.  
“Come on,” he insisted, grinning at him, “Let’s get some sleep.”

Muriel sighed, his eyes following Inanna as she sauntered her way to the door and laid down. He reached his hand up and rubbed at his tired, puffy eyes with his thumb and forefinger. There were a few moments of his nervous reluctance before he moved forward toward the bed and settled down at the edge of it to take off his shoes. 

The mattress creaked as Muriel shifted to lay down, keeping a good few inches from Asra as he pulled the covers up and settled down beneath them. Asra was on the side of the bed Muriel usually slept. Still, Muriel kept his respectful distance, laying nearly at the edge of the mattress as he turned over to lie on his side. 

“Sorry if its not as comfortable as yours,” he mumbled, flicking his eyes down to the sheets. He hoped he washed them. Otherwise they’d smell like dog. “It’s… just what I have.” 

Asra laughed softly and shifted up closer, entirely oblivious to Muriel’s decision for ‘respectful distance’ to be put between them. He looked up at Muriel, eyes only barely adjusted to the dark enough to be able to make him out.

“It’s more than enough,” he promised him, voice quieter now. No longer so teasing and instead sincere. “Relax, Muriel. In the morning, we can go out or go to my place for breakfast. Until then, you need your sleep. And… so do I.”

The last few nights they’d been apart and seemingly hating each other, Asra hadn’t been sleeping too well. Processing the news and tossing and turning, picking apart every detail he could find. One night, he’d even said yes to going out for drinks. With Julian.

Now that his mind wasn’t reeling and his stomach wasn’t churning with regret, it was getting harder and harder to keep his eyes open. Being beside Muriel, pressing up close enough to hear his heartbeat, letting his short arms slip around Muriel as best as he could, Asra had never quite felt so right before in his life.

Muriel had tensed a little upon the initial contact of Asra against him, of Asra’s arms around his body and of Asra’s head against his chest. However, the moment of discomfort passed, and Asra’s warmth was suddenly too alluring to resist. Muriel’s muscles had relaxed, his tense position had eased. 

He shifted a little closer, off of the edge of the bed where he could rest more comfortably. Muriel’s head found a pillow and he laid it there, looking down at Asra with tired eyes and a furrowed brow. Very slowly, he moved his arm to lay across Asra’s body, hooking it delicately around Asra’s back. He watched the way Asra’s eyes sank to a reluctant close.

“I never thanked you for taking me home,” Muriel mumbled into the tired silence of the room. “Or for… distracting Lucio back when I was in front of that crowd. So… uh… thanks, I guess.”

“You never need to thank me-” Asra cut himself off with a yawn, pressing up closer. It was already a fight to stay conscious, it seemed, as exhaustion ensnared him in it's trap. Even with exhaustion making his words heavy, the conviction in Asra’s voice was undeniable. “I’ll always look after you, Muri.”

Asra shifted slightly, getting comfortable, his eyes still closed and his body relaxing. He was content where he was, warm and feeling safe in his arms. He wouldn’t have known if Muriel said anything else about him or not. The next thing he knew, he was asleep, dreaming happily of purple paint bombs.


	20. Emergency Calls

Bzzzt…

The sunlight was streaming through gaps in the curtain. Asra was stirring, though his bones felt weighted with lethargy and his eyelids were too heavy to open. He could feel the warmth of Muriel beside him and absently moved closer, settling against him to doze off again.

Bzzzt…

His eyes fluttered open. That noise - aside from sparking his curiosity, it was irritating. He couldn’t tell what it was in his sleep induced haze, but he’d been stirred enough by it that he knew he wouldn’t be able to doze back off anymore. His attention turned to Muriel, who still seemed to be contently asleep. That was a relief - Muriel needed his rest, as if the bags that had been under his eyes the night before hadn’t been enough of an indicator.

Bzzzt… Bzzzt…

His eyes turned to the source of the sound. He pushed himself to sit up, his eyes finding the bedside table. Atop of it sat his phone, with it’s many charms, the screen lit up with urgency, a name splayed on the screen that Asra couldn’t quite read in his haze. Everything connected in an instant, and all of a sudden he was reaching out to snatch it from where it sat. It didn’t buzz quite so loudly when it was in his hand, but he shifted out of the bed and started to the bedroom door as to avoid stirring Muriel.

‘Goat Bitch’ was staring at him from the screen, along with an eye-rolling emoji, a fire emoji, and a goat emoji. He mumbled a cuss under his breath but swiped to unlock it, answering the call. Before Asra could even get a snappy word in, he was cut off by a voice full of relief. A familiar voice, but it definitely wasn’t Lucio’s. 

“Oh- thank god. I’ve been trying to call you all morning.”

There was a stunned beat of silence.

“Julian? What are- why do you have Lucio’s phone?” 

Another pause. The dots connected in a second, though Julian’s shameful silence would have been testament enough. Anger was beginning to twist in his system before he’d even registered it. 

“How much did you drink last night? You’d never do anything like this if you were even remotely sober.”  
“I- don’t remind me-” Julian said. It sounded like he was moving, clothes or sheets rustling. Asra was grimacing already - he didn’t want to think about it. Whatever was going on in Lucio’s bedroom was none of his concern and he wanted to keep it that way. 

“How did you even get into it?” Asra found himself mumbling, too many thoughts and questions running through his mind to settle on just one topic.  
“He has, uh… facial recognition on his phone. I just held it out in front of him-”  
“Fine, whatever. What the hell did you do?” Asra muttered, glancing back at the bedroom door. He peeked inside, but Muriel hadn’t moved. “Get out of there before he gets up or you’ll have a hell of a lot of explaining to do.”  
“You left me unattended!”  
“I told you I didn’t plan on staying! I left with Muriel after setting off the paint bomb, you weren’t even with Lucio then!”

He paused and sighed, shaking his head.  
“Look, I need to go. I’ve got to shower and get breakfast ready. If you wouldn’t mind, fix your own messes. Just get out before Lucio wakes up and it’ll do both of you a favour.”

Julian had started to say something else, but Asra hung up before he could. He tipped his head back against the wall with a frustrated groan, then set his phone aside to go to the kitchen. He only got about as far as opening the door before Inanna was dashing in ahead of him, her tail thumping happily as she looked from Asra to the cupboard containing her food. With a tired smile, he got up and went to prepare her meal first. 

After that, it was a quick and easy progression into making breakfast for himself and Muriel. He’d fried eggs for them both, then cooking some bacon he’d bought Muriel the last time he’d gone shopping for him. He didn’t have energy to make anything else but figured that they could go to out to eat on their way to his apartment if needed. 

He pushed open the bedroom door, Inanna running past him and hopping up onto the bed, settling where Asra had been lying that morning. He set down the two plates on the bedside table and sat beside Muriel, all prior thoughts of Julian and Lucio gone from his mind already. 

“Muriel,” he hummed, settling a hand on his shoulder and gently nudging him awake. “Good morning, handsome. I made breakfast for us.”

Muriel had never slept as soundly as he had that night. Despite everything — despite every thought, despite every burning flurry of nerves — he’d slipped into slumber in Asra’s arms, and he slept so heavily he hadn’t even had the chance to dream. He was just settled beneath a warm unconsciousness, head sagged deep within the pillow, lips parted and expression slack. He hadn’t even stirred when Asra’s phone rang. It took a considerable amount of nudging to wake him up at all. 

It was the sort of sleep that makes one forget things. Muriel heard Asra’s voice, felt Asra’s touch, smelled Asra’s perfumed smell… and he was comfortable. What had happened had passed him and his awakening mind as his senses unfurled and his eyes began to flutter. Muriel’s breath changed, and he shifted enough to stretch before cracking one eye open. He could see Asra then, the vision so glazed with sleep that the shrouding light that danced behind him from the window encased his form like some ethereal creature. 

Muriel almost felt himself smile at the sight of the morning sunshine in his hair. 

Almost. 

Because his memory betrayed the comfort, and the usual emotion and turmoil settled in his system like the waves of the ocean returning to the shore. 

“Asra,” he said gruffly, reaching a hand to his face to rub his eyes. Muriel was too tired to say anything else — the bad part about such a good rest was that he’d never wanted to get up again — so he just grunted as he pushed himself up from the creaky mattress. 

Breakfast. He smelled breakfast. Muriel rubbed his eyes and peeked at Asra over the tops of his fingers. 

“You didn’t have to do that…” he mumbled, wanting to look up at Asra but losing the confidence to meet his eyes. “What… what time is it?” Muriel patted about the bed for his phone. “Did Lucio… did he call or-... show up or… something?” 

“It’s a little past nine,” Asra said, taking Muriel’s phone and putting it into his hand for him. He reached to the curtains and tugged them, blocking the sunlight from Muriel’s eyes. “Nobody showed up, and nobody called. I told you - nobody noticed.”

Asra reached over and picked up the plate he’d prepared for Muriel, offering it out to him with a warm smile.  
“Here, eat up. I need to shower, but I’ll do that at my house. We can talk about our plans for today once we’ve had our breakfast. Anything else we need to figure out, we can do later.” 

He sank into the space beside Muriel on the bed, taking his own plate and cutlery to start eating. It was still strange to see Muriel like this - with the hair cut short, with the scars on his face in plain sight and his stubble neatened. While Asra was still heavily believing that Muriel didn’t suit this new look as much as he did his long hair, he was growing accustomed to it each time he looked over to him. 

“Is there anything you’d like to do? Typically after parties, Lucio will be too hungover for any work so it’s unlikely that you’ll be called in.”

Muriel neglected the plate on his lap in favor of scrolling and rooting through his phone for anything — any sign that something had been off or wrong. Usually, if he received no messages, no missed calls, no angry voicemails, Muriel would then pick apart Lucio’s social media. He was scrolling through his Twitter while Asra spoke to him, the artificial voice of Lucio’s tweets fuzzing over Asra’s own concerned one as Muriel read on. The only sign he could pick was a whining complaint about a paint bomb ruining his shirt, and even then it was drunkenly typed, and then followed by a string of updates about how splendidly the party had gone on afterwards. 

He set aside his phone and sighed. When Muriel turned to look at Asra, he found his features expectant. Waiting. For an answer? Muriel had missed the question. 

“What?” he asked. His voice was husky and tired. Just faintly he could remember Asra said something about a shower. Muriel needed one, of that had been it. His hair was still crusted and sticky with gel and spray. “Can… can you say that again?”

“I asked if you wanted to do anything,” Asra said, settling his hand on Muriel’s shoulder as a subtle show of affection, a smile appearing on his lips. “Since there’s not likely to be any work today, we should both be free. Lucio will be busy, and I’m sure we have plenty to catch up on.”

Muriel blinked a little. “Oh…”

Anything he’d like to do? The question sounded so ridiculous on his mind, where it had begun to echo after leaving Asra’s lips. He’d like to do nothing. He’d like to spend a mindless day working at his shop. He’d like to just lay in bed and worry about receiving a phone call, a text message, a passive aggressive Twitter notification. The answer, however, was vacant when he parted his lips. Muriel just hoped it would come to him, the same way each response had been buzzing in his head. 

It didn’t. Muriel closed his mouth and turned down to his cooling plate of breakfast. He forced himself to pluck up a piece of bacon and take a bite, just so he didn’t have to answer verbally. He shrugged his shoulders, and made a sound that roughly translated to a tired ‘I don’t know.’

Asra smiled, settling down again and leaning against Muriel while he ate. He was always so clingy - he must have been assuming that Muriel didn’t mind being as affectionate as usual. One of Asra’s talents, after all, was pretending that things were okay.

“We can figure something out, then,” he said, popping another forkful of breakfast into his mouth. “I want to go to my apartment to shower, since I’ve got some shampoo that should get this gel out easily, and then we can figure things out from there. I know some cafe’s, a park we could take Inanna to, a forest trail, anything at all. Wherever you’d like to go, Muriel. It’ll be up to you.”

He eventually set aside an empty plate, sighing as he brought his knees to his chest and wrapped one hand around Muriel’s bicep, cosying up. Again, he seemed relatively unfazed at the idea of being cosy with Muriel, even if they’d not spoken in about a week prior to last night. 

“Julian is busy today, too, so we won’t need to stress about running into him.”

Muriel frowned a little, turning his head away. It was as if he meant to lean away from Asra without actually leaving him. As if he hadn’t necessarily wanted to lose Asra’s touch… however, at the same time, he didn't really want to be beside him either. 

His head was ducked in the opposite direction, his short, choppy bangs somehow having fallen just perfectly across his eyes. It wasn’t the protection he was used to -- but it helped. 

“I’m not… I’m not really sure I should,” he said quietly, looking at the floor. Inanna had been slowly worming closer across the blankets -- in a sort of army crawl -- until her snout pushed beneath Muriel’s hand. He pet her idly, his touch slow and distant as he brushed his thumb up her snout and between her eyes. “I don’t, uh… I’m not…”

He could feel Asra’s eyes watching him -- even with his head turned away, even with his eyes on the floor. Perhaps the short hair hadn’t been helping. He could feel Asra’s pretty gaze on his cheek, tugging and waiting for his own. Muriel frowned, closed his eyes, and could only wait a moment or so before giving the magician what he wanted. 

“How can you act like that?” Muriel asked, turning and looking Asra right in the eyes.

“Like what?” Asra asked, a smile still on his lips though it had faltered, rather taken aback by Muriel’s sudden and unexpected directness. It was especially surprising seeing Muriel go from one state to the other without any clear turning point. 

Muriel lifted his hand from Inanna’s head. She whined as he used it to gesture Asra rather than to offer her delicate pets. She whined again when Muriel dropped his hand back down into his lap. 

“All… smiley. And-... and ready to go outside?” he asked, voice edging on the side of bitter. “You work for him. I work for him. I freaked out last night, and you’re in my apartment and- and we kissed-...”

Oh. Muriel didn't even realize what he’d said until he tasted it on his tongue. We kissed. 

He shook his head and continued. “But you’re acting normal. We kissed and you’re acting normal. Like it didn't happen.” Was that really what he was worried about? The kiss? With everything else that was wrong -- was that all Muriel could voice his concern for? 

“Like it didn’t happen?” Asra echoed, frowning, before he lost all of the weight on his shoulders and let out a sweet, lighthearted laugh. He was grinning, as if Muriel hadn’t just opened up to him and shared his concerns in a sudden moment of courage. 

He moved closer to Muriel, pressing against his side, letting his head tip on Muriel’s shoulder.  
“Is this better, sweetie?” he teased, “Would you like me to massage your shoulders and call you more pet names?” He leant up, pressing a quick and sweet peck to Muriel’s cheek. “Or do you just want me to kiss you more often, bear?” 

His hand settled on Muriel’s arm, his fingers tracing idly up and down it, squeezing as if to reassure him. 

“I didn’t think you wanted me to act any different, Muriel. I wasn’t sure what you wanted. We can go out on dates instead of going out for breakfast. Maybe tomorrow, I could make you breakfast and give it a bacon smile?”

He was always so lighthearted, teasing away with that mischievous glimmer lingering in his eyes. As if nothing had ever gone wrong - as if everything was working out perfectly.

As if they didn’t have a very angry Count lingering on their tail and waiting for a slip up so he had an excuse to torment Muriel and lightly punish Asra. 

Still, Asra trailed his fingers up and down Muriel’s arm. Still, Asra leant against him, cosied up to his arm, smiling like nothing mattered at all. Nothing but himself and Muriel. Because, well, it did. To him, they were all that mattered. He could endure hell at his job or listen to Julian bumbling over feelings that Asra ignored that he had, he could get as frustrated as he wanted with Lucio, but the only thing that truly mattered to him was Muriel. 

He reached out to pet Inanna, scratching under her chin and giving her the attention Muriel wasn’t.  
“We should take you out for a walk soon, shouldn’t we?” he cooed, trying to find any excuse to go outside. 

Muriel’s features had flushed with pink at all of the affection. His head had ducked and his eyes had, once again, averted. But he didn't push Asra away. 

“Yeah,” he muttered, absently patting for that plate of breakfast Asra had gotten him. He wasn't all that hungry, but the crunch of that bacon -- and the taste -- distracted him. Gave him a reason to keep from speaking or blubbering something else as embarrassing as what he’d uttered before. Muriel swallowed thickly before speaking again. “I… I also should go to the shop again today. Get some money. Attempt to… uh… buy my way out again…” 

An acidic feeling trickled down Muriel’s chest, gathering in his gut. It was like heartburn, almost. A hot, bitterly painful sensation that spurred at the thought of buying his freedom again. Working his way to damn near death by exhaustion just to scrape enough money to get out of Lucio’s grip. The second time would be worse than the first. The second time would be harder -- Lucio had a taste of him again. The Count wasn’t going to release his hold so easily. 

Muriel dropped the half eaten piece of bacon down onto the plate. He wasn’t very keen on taking another bite.

“I should shower,” he mumbled, shrugging Asra off of him as he slipped down from the bed. Muriel plucked up both his phones -- both Lucio’s burner phone, and his personal. “Thanks for breakfast. And… thanks for staying. I guess.” 

“You want to go back to work?” Asra asked, frowning. He was on his feet after a moment, too, beginning to approach Muriel. Inanna sat down and looked hopefully up at Asra - who was more than happy to take Muriel’s leftover piece of bacon and throw it to her before approaching Muriel again. “We ought to go somewhere. Don’t you think? I can cover your money, like I used to.” 

He moved one hand to his untamable mess of hair, tugging a hand through it and pushing it out of his face. It wasn’t as if his pride got in the way of admitting that he wanted to stay - he was sure that Muriel was familiar to his clinginess by then - but the idea of leaving, of going home without Muriel with him… 

Anyone could just show up here while Asra wasn’t there. What would happen then? Would Muriel’s house get ransacked again? Would money be demanded of him? At least with Julian at Lucio’s, he’d be updated if that rat was on the move, but what if it was someone else? Ludovico or Bludmila? And what would they make of it if Asra was there?

“You could shower at my place,” he said without much thought behind it. “I figured… maybe you shouldn’t stick around here today. In case someone comes around. Don’t you think?”

Muriel grit his teeth and stopped short where he was on his path to the bathroom. He didn't turn to face Asra before he spoke, and his voice left him in a low, tensioned mutter. 

“I don’t want you paying for me,” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t want you taking care of me. This is my problem… my mistake.” Muriel’s eyes looked down toward his hands, at the little scars nicked in the bend of his knuckles where the handle of an axe might have calloused his fingers, where the piping hot shell of a bullet just fired might have burned him. He closed his eyes, still shaking his head. “Not to mention it’s his money you’d be helping me with, anyways.” 

Inanna gave a whine and stood up from the floor, moving toward Muriel with the faint click of her claws against the tile of his floor. She nudged his leg with her snout, and Muriel sighed, reaching down to pat her head.

“I’m sorry,” he sighed to Asra. Despite the apology, his voice was still tight and frustrated. “I’m just-... after last night I-... ugh.” He shook his head again. “If you really want to, we can go to your place after I shower. But if I were you, I’d get as far away from me as you can. The second Lucio realizes what happened…” 

Muriel huffed and stopped petting Inanna.  
“Well, I’m sure you know him well enough to know what he might do.” 

Asra had fallen quiet at the initial and jarring bitterness that Muriel mustered to speak with him. He’d not heard him speak in such a way before. He’d been cut off and distant, sure, but never quite so… angry. Not at him. 

“I’ll wait out here for you,” he said, taking his phone from where he’d set it after Julian’s panicked call earlier that morning. He looked at Muriel, then away again, unlocking his phone to see uncountable messages from Julian. On his own phone, that time, which he seemed to have found. He wandered through to the living room, settling down on the couch to flick through the messages. Details about the morning, notes that Julian had successfully escaped Lucio’s room before he’d woken up, etcetera. 

All of which Asra responded to with an idle thumbs-up emoji. He closed the app and tucked his phone into his pocket before he could see the next flurry of messages come through. 

He didn’t want to focus too much on Julian or on Lucio. He was occupied thinking about Muriel and trying to shake off the residing discomfort in his system that that initial snap had left him with. 

Muriel wasn’t one to take long in the shower. Water was something he didn’t like to waste — the bills all added up, and things like running faucets and lights left on throughout the day or the night weren’t something he had the money to account for. However that morning, Muriel found that most of his rather long shower consisted of standing beneath water that simply wasted away down the drain beneath his feet. He took his time beneath the beating stream from the shower head, allowing the water to soak through his shortened hair, to drain down his face and drip from his nose. 

He didn’t think throughout his shower, but his head felt tired by the time he’d shut off the water with a squeak of faucet. The pipes groaned, and steam wafted about the bathroom. Muriel hadn’t even really noticed how hot the water had been until he got a good look at the pinkened state of his skin in the steam fogged mirror. Oddly enough, Muriel remained thoughtless and almost lackadaisical as he dried himself off. His eyes stared blankly into the muggy ones of his own reflection. Slow and dogged down, as if he was tired. Or perhaps he’d been stalling… which was an odd sort of thought. Just what could he be stalling? Just what could he be waiting for? 

Neither phones rang, beeped, or buzzed throughout his shower and his drying off and his dressing. Muriel pushed both into his pants pockets — old worn out jeans that matched his old, worn out tee-shirt — and gave one final glance at his reflection before stepping out into the main apartment. He moved down the hall to the open space rather slowly, peeking over the corner into the living room, as if he was afraid to see whether or not Asra had gotten impatient and left him. 

He didn’t know which scenario it was that scared him. 

But Asra was still on the couch. On his phone. Idly petting Inanna between the ears. 

He was still there. 

Muriel swallowed hard, and then cleared his throat.  
“We could go then, I guess…” he mumbled as he stepped forward. He leaned down and scooped up his boots into his hand. “If you still want to, I mean. Can I bring Inanna?”

Asra turned to look at Muriel, giving him a smile - one that Inanna matched, her tail wagging at the sight of Muriel again. Even if the change that the short hair provided was unsettling, Asra felt that he was getting used to it. With his hair still damp from the shower and a few stray droplets running down Muriel’s biceps, Asra couldn’t have found a reason to complain. 

“Of course,” Asra smiled, getting to his feet and stepping awkwardly around Inanna to avoid trampling her by accident. “We’ll take my car again, so she can get comfortable in the back. I’ve not seen Faust in a while, but I left her with a generous dinner so she should be in a good mood with me for it.” 

He walked over to Muriel, holding out his hand with the palm up, a smile on his lips. It was a simple, silent request for Muriel’s hand. He was sure that Muriel wouldn’t want to be showing such blatant signs of affection with him when they were out of the apartment, in front of others, but he didn’t mind. He’d take what he could get, when he could get it. 

Muriel looked down at his hand for a moment, hesitant. The reluctance was carried with him as he lifted his own hand, but Muriel lost the feeling when his fingers touched Arsa’s, when his hand met Asra’s. He looked away when he took a hold of Asra’s hand, but his cheeks flushed with their usual pink. 

Asra, grinning, leant up and pressed a slow, sweet kiss to Muriel’s cheek. It was quick and short, but it was there. He was still thinking of Muriel’s little complaint about how Asra didn’t seem to be treating him any differently.

 

Then, still holding Muriel’s hand, he tucked his phone away into his pocket to start towards the door of his apartment, no falter in his peppy steps, no anxiety that they’d be caught or seen by anyone. Of all the ways that they differed, Asra’s casualness, bordering on carelessness, was by far the most obvious. 

When he got to the door, he splayed his palm flat against it and stopped, closing his eyes. Energy ran through his skin, sending a slight buzz through to where he was still holding onto Muriel. He didn’t move for a few moments, eyes closed in concentration, but slowly nodded and pulled back.  
“It’s clear,” he said over his shoulder, managing a smile. “There’s nobody on the other side, and as far as I could find, nobody in the corridor at all.”

He gave Muriel’s hand a small squeeze, opening the door he’d unlocked with his magic. 

“Let’s go, Muri.”

They left Muriel’s apartment building, carried on by Asra’s confidence. Muriel ducked his head to hide behind bangs he didn't quite have when they passed the front desk and he felt a bit uncomfortable, as if eyes were pressed against the back of his neck, when they’d stepped outside. However, Asra kept moving. He kept holding his hand, even after they clambered into Asra’s nice car and were well settled into Asra’s nice leather seats. Muriel never felt as though he wanted to pull away, either. 

He supposed in the midst of everything, that had to be a good sign. 

The ride was quiet, but Asra made it comfortable. The radio was turned on, set at a low, relaxing sort of volume, the beat of the car’s powerful bass a bit ambient as Muriel peered nervously through the passenger seat window. The world outside was damp from the stormy weather, the air muggy and clammy. Cold. Sunshine glistened off of wet pavement and rain speckled car windows. The sky, however, wasn’t quite clear. The clouds were misted over everything in a thin blanketing of dreary grey. The sight made Muriel somehow more anxious, his free hand settled on his thigh where he could feel the phones in his pocket -- as if he was ready for a buzz, a call, a something. 

His other hand still held onto Asra’s. 

They were a good ways into the city, and morning was beginning to grow later. The ten o’clock buzz of the town, even in the muggy weather, was peppy and popular. Traffic became a problem, and the minutes ticked on. Thirty past ten, and Muriel still hadn’t heard a peep from either phone. Every moment that passed without some sort of sign was a moment he felt like turning to Asra and telling him that he wanted to go home. But that would be ridiculous, wouldn't it? What could home do that Asra’s fancy, magical apartment couldn’t?

It was the buzz of the city. Muriel told himself that, and held a little tighter to Asra’s hand. The buzz of the city was just clashing with the residing feelings he harbored from the night before. He tipped his head forward, and his heart positively panged at the absence of his bangs. 

“You’ll tell me if you hear from… him. Won’t you?” It was the first time Muriel had really spoken since they left his apartment. Asra’s building was in view -- there was just the matter of getting through traffic and into the parking garage. “I just… I wanna make sure he’s not… angry.” 

Asra nodded, the smile on his face having never quite left, what with how Muriel’s hold would occasionally tighten, steadily loosen, and then tighten again. He was far more patient about traffic and how long the journey was taking when he had someone like Muriel sitting beside him to keep him company. 

“If I hear anything, I’ll let you know,” he said, stopping at a red light and digging into his pocket to get out his work phone, passing it over to Muriel. “If it’ll help, you can hold onto that until we get to mine. Just don’t listen to anything Julian says.” His voice dropped quieter as he leant back into his seat, murmuring a ‘God knows I don’t.’

Just like Muriel’s, however, Asra’s phone showed no sign of contact. No sign of Lucio’s wild temper getting the better of him once more, and nothing to indicate that specifically Muriel or specifically Asra had gotten on his bad side the night before. Nobody had noticed their escape, especially not someone like Lucio. 

He was pulling into the parking garage soon enough, buzzing himself in and parking his car in his assigned spot, then turning to look back at Muriel. He leant over and pecked his cheek yet again before pulling back and opening the car door, then opening the back for Inanna to hop down. Her tail was wagging excitedly, though Asra couldn’t tell what from, and waited until she was over by Muriel’s side to close the door he was holding. He moved back, then stopped for Muriel and offered out his hand again. 

“Don’t worry so much,” he told Muriel when he was closer, giving him an easy and carefree smile, “we got away with it last night, so relax. I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.”

“Right,” Muriel said, slowly taking his touch away from his cheek where Asra had kissed him. Once again, he reached down and settled his hand against Asra’s, their fingers interlocking as Muriel moved closer and turned his gaze away to the ground. “Right. It’s fine. It’ll be fine…” 

Inanna followed closely on their tail as they made their way up from the parking garage and into the main lobby of the building. Both Muriel and Inanna found it best to duck their heads and avert their eyes when they crossed the lobby desk. The man who sat behind it never really regarded them with much kindness nor trust after that night Muriel had shown his rain soaked face and bloody, scratched up hands. He could feel the man’s glare tickling the back of his neck -- which was an odd sensation, considering he’d gone so long with a curtain of protective hair there. 

They stepped into the elevator together, though, and the man’s judgeful eyes disappeared behind the closing metal doors, and were replaced with Muriel and Asra’s waxy reflection against polished steel. Muriel watched as Asra punched in his floor number, and then felt the elevator jolt upwards.

The last time they’d been in an elevator with one another, things hadn’t been so pleasant. 

“I’m gonna need to get back to the shop soon,” Muriel muttered, just wanting to fill the space above the drone of the elevator and the ding of each floor they passed. He felt as though he’d already said that. He might have -- he didn't remember. He was just grasping for things to say. “Not… today soon, I guess. But soon. I have clients to help. A debt to start paying off again.” 

“That’s fine,” Asra said, though something similar to guilt was ebbing it's way into his voice as he held tighter to Muriel’s hand. It was barely noticeable, but it was there. “I could keep you company. Scare off any of Lucio’s goons that come around just to mess around, if that’d help. I’m pretty reputable over there.”

Silence followed his words. 

“Not- not in a… just because I’m one of the few magicians on his payroll,” he fumbled, looking up at Muriel and then promptly away again. “Not because I’ve done anything.”

Inanna bumped his hand and he took it as a more than perfect reason to stop talking, leaning down to scratch behind her ear and petting the top of her head, smiling.  
“You’ve missed my apartment, haven’t you?” he cooed, “I’ve still got some of that good food for you for later.”

Inanna gave a contented snort and shifted closer to him, her body bumping against his leg as she accepted all his kind pets. Muriel watched her. After a moment or so, he might have offered a twitch of a smile.

“I think she’d like that,” he murmured, tipping his head to the side as Inanna lifted her own. Her voice hummed in his head, telling him that she definitely would, and Muriel huffed a breath of air and rolled her eyes. “Yeah. I think we’d both like that.”

Asra kept a hold on Muriel’s hand until the elevator doors opened, giving him a smile before stepping out and pulling Muriel along behind him, Inanna already dashing down the hall to get to his apartment.


End file.
